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THE GANG 


A STORY OF THE MIDDLE WEST 


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“The closing hours of one of those days of 
late autumn sunshine ” 


THE GANG 

A STORY OF THE MIDDLE WEST 


By 

Fred ^rasted 


** Government is a trust, and the officers 
of the government are trustees; and 
both the trust and the trustees are 
created for the benffit of the people. ** 

— Heruy Clay 


The Griffith & Rowland Press 

Pbiladelphia 

Chicago St. Louis 


Boston 



Copyright 1910 by 
A. J. ROWLAND, Secretary 

Published March, 1910 


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€C!.A2G:f 006 


matban IRueaell Sraateb, Sr. 


AND 

Hbaline flRore Sra&teb 


MY FATHER AND MOTHER 
THIS BOOK IS REVERENTLY 
AND 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 



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PREFATORY NOTE 


The writer’s plea for presenting this book is 
found in “ The Argument,” which follows the 
concluding chapter of the story. The scene of this 
narrative is not laid in Ida County, Iowa, nor are 
any of the persons in it among my former or 
present acquaintances in that place. 


The Author. 



CONTENTS 


Chapter Pag* 

I. The Challenge 13 

11 . A Ride 20 

III. A Knock at the Door 29 

IV. Jones" Story 38 

V. Steve"s Preliminary Examination 46 

VI. The Plum Grove Literary Society 57 

VIL A Blizzard and a Girl 69 

VIII. Uncle Billy 91 

IX. Before the Law iii 

X. A Mob 127 

XL The Municipal Campaign 137 

XII. Spring Seeding 148 

XIII. The Sociable 152 

XIV. The Cyclone 159 

XV. The '' Putting Out of Bill 

Crowley 166 

XVI. The Play of Politics 171 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

XVII. The Caucus 178 

XVIII. The Warning 187 

XIX. The Bloodhounds 196 

XX. Bud McGuire's Revelations. . . 207 

XXL An's Advice 215 

XXII. The County Convention 219 

XXIII. Scudderville's Glorious 

Fourth 226 

XXIV. Around the Thrashing Ma- 
chine 237 

XXV. Another Scene in Gene's Of- 
fice 242 

XXVI. An's Chicken-supper Party . . . 247 
XXVII. The White Caps 264 

XXVIII. He Would not Take the 

Crown 277 

XXIX. Corn Picking 286 

XXX. The Election 290 

XXXI. Gene and Ruth 297 

XXXII. ‘‘ Go Tell Aunt Rhody " 304 

The Argument 310 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

The closing hours of one of those days of 
late autumn sunshine . Frontispiece ^ 

** * If you want good men to win, why don't 

you help them then? ' " 15 v 

^ Charley,' she said , '' are you asleep f , 86^ 

** ' There's the letter, there it is!' " 118^ 

We were at our work of rescue all through 
the night " idj 

** * I'zh got a gun here, Mishter Lawyer,' he 

said, -flourishing his pistol " 208 ^ 

* Ruth — Ruth ' " 3^3 

I have a view of miles and miles of broad, 
peaceful valley along the Badger " , , , , J05 


THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS 


Eugene Bradgate, lawyer and reformer. 

Norman Skinner, a machine boss and leader of 
the gang. 

Philip Blair, Bradgate’s friend and co-worker. 

Ruth Walton, Norman Skinner’s step-daugh- 
ter. 

Bill Black, editor of ‘‘ The Graphic ” and Brad- 
gate’s bitter opponent. 

Plumpy Baker, a chronic office-holder. 

Bud McGuire, a political heeler and doer of dirty 
jobs. 

John Marshall, business man and reliable pub- 
lic servant. 

An Russell, solid, shrewd ex-soldier and farmer. 

Steven Russell, his son and victim of a false 
arrest. 

August Mueller, an honest German who must 
feed mein pigs.” 

Uncle Billy, who could pray but had a failing. 

Timmy, a half-witted fellow — ^but with more wit 
than some wiser. 

“ Mattie ” and “ Tressie,” little girls, but im- 
portant to the story. 


THE GANG 


CHAPTER 1 

THE CHALLENGE 

I T was a frosty night in early November, in the 
eighties. The big towering stove in Free- 
man's drug store, stuffed unsparingly with 
soft coal, was red hot. The two kerosene 
lamps hanging from the ceiling, with their dusty, 
grimy chimneys, had lost hope long ago of dispel- 
ling the blue-gray haze of tobacco smoke that filled 
the room, and now burned on in a slovenly, sickly 
way. 

Freeman’s drug store, standing on the principal 
corner of the little county-seat town of Scudder- 
ville, was a favorite loafing-place. A dozen or so 
men were lounging about. Scudder, a county in a 
northern prairie State, had held its election the 
day before; the ‘‘ gang,” as usual, had won, and a 
number of its members dropped in to talk it over 
around the stove. 

“ They’re votin’ for the ' Kaiser ’ yet down in 
Bremen township,” said “ Plumpy ” Baker, the 
county clerk, from his perch on a counter, and 
his round, fat face, almost as red as the stove, 
dimpled and creased as he broadly grinned. 


IS 


THE 


GANG 


No, they’re not,” spoke up Hubert Guegle, 
the one-legged superintendent of schools ; the 
‘ Kaiser ’ sent ’em word yesterday afternoon to 
stop — he had plenty.” 

The crowd glanced behind the stove, where the 
“ Kaiser,” a determined-faced German, Henry 
Heinrich, was sitting, and laughed. Heinrich 
had just been elected recorder for the fifth time. 

Say, Henry, just tell ’em to put the rest of 
their votes in cold storage till next fall, and save 
’em for Plumpy when he has to run for clerk 
again.” 

The speaker was Bill Black, a man perhaps 
thirty-five years old. Slender, erect, he was a 
spectacular figure in a long drab ‘‘ Prince Albert,” 
and boot-tops laced to the knees; over his silky, 
red hair, which reached to the shoulders, a broad- 
brimmed felt hat was tipped well back, showing 
a rather handsome but an audacious, daredevil 
face. His card read, ‘‘ Bill Black, Editor and 
Proprietor, Jehovah and Devil of the ‘ Scudder 
County Graphic.’ He wears his hair, his coat, 
and his boot-tops long, because they are all his.” 
The headline of his paper said : ‘‘ A weekly news- 
paper devoted to the interests of Scudderville, of 
Scudder County, of the Republican party, and of 
Bill Black.” 

Following Black’s remark another laugh went 
around. 

14 



“ ‘ If you want good men to win, why don’t 
you help them, then?”’ 


Page 15 






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•^5 


THE CHALLENGE 


“ Well, boys,’' said Norman Skinner, the 
county treasurer, who was leaning against a 
showcase, a tall, gaunt man, with short-cropped, 
iron-gray beard, and cunning, squinting, blue 
eyes, “ I hate terribly bad to see such good men 
beaten. I’d rather be beaten myself. Of course, 
there was good men elected too ; and as for Hein- 
rich, nobody could be elected over the Kaiser; 
but the county is so strong Republican if we’d 
hang together we’d win. But they will scratch 
and nobody can* help it. I tell you I do hate to see 
any good man lose out.” 

Every one listened; for Norman Skinner, who 
posed as a Republican, was the leader of the court- 
house gang. He was cautious and ingenious, 
selfish and vindictive ; but on the outside he wore 
a manner of deferential, genial kindness, and 
the people followed him. He had ruled them so 
long that they had grown used to him. He had 
become a habit. When he ceased speaking there 
was a moment’s silence, and then a new voice 
was heard — one that seldom spoke in the gather- 
ings about Freeman’s stove. 

‘‘If you want good men to win, why don’t you 
help them then, instead of always doing the other 
thing?” 

It came with the suddenness of an explosion, 
and when the crash was over everybody was star- 
ing in open-mouthed wonder at the speaker. 


15 


THE 


GANG 


It was Eugene Bradgate, a young lawyer of 
the town. He was standing on the outer edge of 
the group, his finely chiseled, serious face, thin 
lips, and slender, athletic figure, a fit model for 
a sculptor of fearless, aggressive defiance. He 
had lived among them for three years, but they 
had never seen him so before. They had thought 
him a quiet, reserved, but capable man, who would 
avoid conflict. But now he appeared transfigured. 
He stood and spoke as one who had become sud- 
denly conscious of tremendous power for com- 
bat. He hurled the challenge straight at Skinner ; 
his earnest, fearless, steel-gray eyes flashing 
squarely into the eyes of the man he had accused. 
During the stunned silence that followed, Skinner 
held his composure, and coolly returned Brad- 
gate’s look. At length he calmly replied : 

That’s pretty plain talk, my young friend.” 

I should say so,” chimed in Plumpy Baker ; 
‘‘ mighty plain.” And he gaped at Bradgate as at 
a man beside himself. 

“ I didn’t intend my remark to be ambiguous, 
Mr. Skinner,” responded Bradgate. ‘‘ It may 
be of no concern to you, but I wanted to tell you 
that there are some who know you and your or- 
ganization — that you have slaughtered the best 
men on both tickets — that while you have in your 
crowd Republicans and Democrats, you care for 
neither party. You are for yourself. I am not 
1 « 


THE CHALLENGE 


seeking a quarrel, but I have decided, wisely or 
unwisely, to speak and act as I think hereafter, 
and I think you and your gang are a curse to 
Scudder County/' 

Young man,” slowly answered Skinner after 
a long silence, “ I do not think it necessary for me 
to argue with you. My party loyalty and my 
loyalty to my friends are too well known to make 
it worth while to talk with you any further.” 

As he said this he straightened up, buttoned 
his overcoat close under his bearded chin, drew 
on a pair of leather gloves, and turned to his 
friends, saying, “ Boys, I must go home. Good 
night to you.” With that he walked out. 

Bradgate said nothing further, and in a mo- 
ment he also went out. 

After the door had closed behind Bradgate, 
Lem Suggs, a member of the board of county 
commissioners — stout, broad-shouldered, broad- 
footed, fat-faced, and thick-skinned — sitting, a 
huge lump in a big arm office chair, shifted the 
quid of tobacco from one puffy cheek to the other 
once or twice, rolled his eyes back and forth over 
the group, at length permitting them to rest on 
the spot on the floor where he had spit last, and 
said : 

“ That young feller might 'bout as well take 
in his shingle in this here town.” 

“ You bet,” added Chapman, a smooth-faced, 
B 17 


THE 


GANG 


trim-looking young lumberman, ‘‘ and buy a 
ticket out of it too/’ 

“ He’s liable to get out on a one-rail railroad 
and free transportation,” curtly added Bill Black, 
who was Skinner’s political lieutenant. 

“ Being a Methodist,” spoke up John Marshall, 
“ and not much of an admirer of Norm Skinner’s 
ways, I say amen to each and every word Mr. 
Bradgate said, and I wish somebody had had the 
courage to tell the truth, as he has, ten years ago. 
Some of Norm Skinner’s henchmen may kill him 
and drag him out of Scudderville, but I don’t 
think they can scare him out, and if he’s dragged 
out there’ll be another one to take with him, and 
that’s me — John Marshall.” 

John was an honest, vigorous, impulsive 
Scotch-Irishman engaged in the grocery business. 

Bow-wow,” barked Chapman. 

“ Will somebody please lead in prayer ? ” said 
Bill Black gravely. 

This broke the tension, and the crowd laughed. 

“ I’ve no doubt we all need it,” remarked Mar- 
shall, as with flushed face he left the room. 

I could have confirmed Marshall’s estimate of 
Bradgate. In the old days at college we had called 
him ‘‘ Egypt,” because his sober countenance and 
his firmness when he took a stand had suggested 
the face of the Sphinx. We had graduated to- 
gether five years before, and for three years his 
18 


THE CHALLENGE 


tin sign, “ Eugene Bradgate, Lawyer,” had 
flapped and creaked in the many bleak winds that 
scurried through the streets of the little frame- 
built but rapidly growing town. Now I had come 
to spend an indefinite period with him. In coming 
I had two avowed purposes — health and invest- 
ments. But it was a tugging at my heartstrings 
which took me to Scudderville. I wanted to see 
Egypt again, the one friend of my college days. 

Being known as a friend and a guest of Brad- 
gate’s, and not wanting to listen to further com- 
ments on the affair, I walked out and down the 
street, overtaking him as he stood at the foot 
of the stairway leading up to his office and to 
our sleeping-room, calmly smoking a cigar. 

“ Young man,” I said, repeating Skinner’s and 
Suggs’s words; “ you’re in for it now, sure.” 

“ In for what? ” 

A row.” 

‘‘ With whom?” 

** The devil, I guess.” 

‘‘ Suppose I am, isn’t that all right ? ” 

It was Egypt of old. He had met squarely in 
his path a positive and definite evil which should 
be removed, and he proposed to remove it if he 
could. It did not count with him that the attempt 
would be full of danger to his business and pro- 
fessional career, and perhaps to his reputation 
and his life. 


19 


CHAPTER n 


A RIDE 

A PRAIRIE landscape, a cloudless prairie 
sky, the vitalizing prairie air — taking 
it all in, as one plunges along on the 
muscular back of a high-spirited, sensi- 
ble horse, he cannot help feeling the very joy of 
being. 

It was a day or two after the drug-store epi- 
sode. We were going to Andrew, or “ An,” 
Russell’s. He lived three or four miles from 
Scudderville. Bradgate, or Gene, as his friends 
called him, and I went there often. When we 
went, four were always in the party — Gene and 
I, ‘‘ Pegasus ” and ‘‘ Pete.” They were a fine 
pair of bays, full brothers, and splendid compan- 
ionable fellows. Gene rode Pegasus and I rode 
Pete. 

When we traveled leisurely. Gene, with long, 
steady gaze, took in the landscape. There was a 
love-light in his eyes as their look wandered over 
the rich acres of ripened, rust-brown prairie grass, 
patched here and there with fields of the stubble 
of long-since harvested grain and corn fields gray 
and white with age and frost, on to the low hills 
ae 


A 


R 


I 


D 


E 


beyond the Badger River, and finally rested on 
the half-gone setting sun. He had grown to love 
this new land, with its miles upon miles of fertile 
expanse, and in it saw not only great agricultural 
possibilities but peculiar natural beauties. 

There was an intoxication in the crisp, bracing 
November evening air. It was the closing hour 
of one of those days of late autumn sunshine, 
common in the Northwest, when one drinks in 
nerve and muscle and vim with every breath. The 
world was good. Strength, vigor, and freedom 
were everywhere. 

Pete, to show how he was feeling, would give 
his fine head and graceful neck a most paralyzing 
shake, and then plunge forward at an amazing 
rate until checked into a more moderate gait. He 
had tried his roguish pranks several times already, 
and now off he went again. He was slowing up a 
little when the rapid clatter of hoofs sounded 
behind us. An instant later Frank Morgan rode 
past at high speed. Pete, like a flash, accepted 
the challenge without consulting his rider and was 
off. 

The road was nearly level, beaten into two 
tracks, with the grass growing tall between them, 
owing to the almost exclusive use of ** double or 
two-horse vehicles. 

This Morgan was an egotistical young chap 
who, through the influence of a relative, held a 

21 


THE 


GANG 


clerical appointment at the State Capitol. Home 
on a vacation, he had brought with him a so- 
called thoroughbred, and for several days had 
been displaying this horse and himself to the 
supposedly admiring town and country folk. 

Morgan looked back, and then quickly faced to 
the front again and urged his horse forward. By 
the time both horses were at a full run he was 
not more than two lengths ahead. Then for a 
while it was a pretty close race. We were about 
a quarter of a mile from An’s place. Soon Pete 
began to gain. When perhaps thirty rods from 
the driveway into An’s yard, a full, clear-toned 
voice shouted : 

“ Go it, Pete ! Stick to your saddle, Penna- 
mite ! ” It was An. No one else called me Pen- 
namite.” He was from New York, near the 
Pennsylvania line, where the New Yorkers 
sometimes call the Pennsylvanians Pennamites. 
Down in the corn field, a few rods from the road- 
side, he stood, mounted on a load of newly picked 
corn, swinging his gray felt hat in great circular 
sweeps before him as he roared again : 

Go it Pete ! Stick to your saddle, P-E-N- 
N-A-M-I-T-E! ” You never heard such a 
mighty voice. Pete knew it though, for An had 
raised and trained him. How his muscles 
swelled! He bent his neck a little lower, and 
then, with three leaps, he responded to the voice 
22 


A 


R 


I 


D 


E 


that he loved. At the end of the first cry he was 
abreast of Morgan’s horse, with the second he 
passed him half a length, and when the third was 
completed there was a gap of half a length be- 
tween us. 

It then flashed upon me what An had meant 
by admonishing me to stick to the saddle. Upon 
seeing us pass he had instantly realized that from 
habit the horse would turn into the driveway lead- 
ing to his old home, and an inexperienced rider, 
not watching, might be thrown. By the time An’s 
voice died away we were well ahead of Morgan 
and nearing the place where the track led off from 
the road. I tried to slacken the horse’s speed, but 
before much could be accomplished the turn was 
reached and Pete dashed into it. I worked des- 
perately to rein him past, but the only effect of 
pulling him out was to check him so suddenly as 
to jolt me upward and forward out of the saddle. 
I came down squarely astride his neck, and with 
legs locked together under his jaws I held on 
until he stopped inside the yard. Then the good 
old fellow gently lowered his head and let me off. 

‘‘ Dran’pa An don’t ride him’s horses ’at way.” 
This comment was quaintly and demurely made 
by An’s three-year-old granddaughter, who was 
standing by a corncrib a few feet from where Pete 
had stopped. She had been playing with the ears 
of new corn that lay scattered on the ground. 


23 


THE 


GANG 


Presently An appeared, with his load of corn, 
in the road at the end of the willow hedge that 
enclosed the buildings. Gene was riding at his 
side. At sight of Gene the little three-year-old 
forgot everything and everybody else and flew 
to meet him. 

My B’adgate’s coming, B’adgate’s coming ! ” 
she shouted. 

‘‘ Hello, Mattie, do you want a ride on Pega- 
sus ? ” said Gene. 

In course I does,” she answered, and Gene 
reined up, reached down, took a chubby arm in 
each hand and placed her in the saddle in front 
of him, and they rode into the yard together. 

** We hustled ’round the end of the hedge right 
.tolerable quick,” said An, '' to see how you came 
in, Pennamite ; but I guess you’re square on your 
pins again. Does that young spike-toed, yaller- 
shod Morgan, that was jest now saunterin’ by, 
think that boss of his can run alongside of Pete? 
’Tain’t because I raised ’im that I say so, but I 
tell ye, boys, there’s a good many bosses around 
these parts that can’t throw gravel in Pete’s eyes.” 

How about Pegasus ? ” said Gene slyly. 

** What ? Peg ? I raised them bosses as ye 
know, both of ’em, and if there’s any difference 
in their speed I don’t know it. I don’t know, 
though, how Peg gets along with that addition 
you built on to his name. Don’t suppose he pays 
24 


A 


R 


I 


D 


E 


any attention to it. He always was above any 
nonsense like that. But we mustn’t stand here 
talking about ’em and let Pete catch cold after his 
little spurt. Of course he ain’t sweatin’ much, but 
ye better throw a blanket over him. It’s purty 
sharp to-night. Jest take the chaps into the stable 
and tie up in the east stall. I’ll drive into the crib 
and unhitch, and we’ll go in and see what the 
neighbors have brought in for supper. Ye know 
Pop ain’t much of a hand when it comes to 
cookin’,” he said with a wink, so ye mus’n’t ex- 
pect much.” He always called his wife Pop.” 

After caring for the horses we went into the 
house, with An, at the kitchen door. Steve, An’s 
only son, was helping his mother put an extra 
board in the ash extension table. Steve was a 
clean-cut, fine-looking, sturdy young fellow of 
twenty-two or three, who was engaged by a firm 
at Clear Creek, a small town a few miles from 
Scudderville, as a buyer of grain. 

The hard-pine, oiled floor of the kitchen was as 
clean as scrubbing could make it, and the plastered 
walls were spotless from frequent whitewashing. 
There were a few wall decorations, among them 
a steel engraving of President Lincoln and his 
family, another of Grant and his family, each in 
a little oval walnut frame. There was An’s com- 
pany roster. He had been a Federal soldier dur- 
ing the Civil War period. And there Mrs. 


29 


THE 


GANG 


Russell’s portrait of Queen Victoria, whom she 
loved devotedly. In a corner hung a “ what-not ” 
filled with bric-a-brac. The other furnishings too 
were of the simplest sort. In addition to the 
table, which Steve and his mother were fixing for 
the evening meal, there were a few plain chairs, 
a narrow bed lounge, and a big cook stove that 
shone like black silk. 

We washed our hands and faces in the granite 
washbasin on a bench on the back porch, and 
dried them on the long roller towel. We combed 
our hair before the square, cherry-framed look- 
ing-glass, with a spacious comb-case hanging 
below it. 

It was not long before Steve and his mother had 
the table set. In the middle stood the big, brightly 
burning lamp, the glass standard, bowl and chim- 
ney cleaned and rubbed till not a spot could be 
seen. Around it thickly crowded the generously 
heaped dishes. There were two roasted mallard 
ducks that An had killed, warmed-up potatoes — 
the like of which no one else ever cooked west of 
the Allegheny Mountains — the home-made sorg- 
hum, the pumpkin pies, the wheat bread — ivory 
white, and the corn bread — golden brown. It all 
looked good to hungry men on a frosty night. 

When the supper was ready we gathered about 
the table. Mrs. Russell, plump, jolly, and 
motherly, sat at one end. and Mr. Russell in his 
26 


A 


R 


I 


D 


E 


shirt-sleeves, tall, broad-shouldered, and grizzly 
bearded, a magnificent man, at the other. They 
were a quaint, delightful old couple. An, a fine 
horseman, a skilful hunter, a keen-witted, fearless 
man, was respected over the county. His wife 
was a fit and full companion for him. Living 
with them was the little granddaughter, Mattie, 
the daughter of their only other child. Both par- 
ents of the little one had died, leaving her no 
home save that of Dran’pa An,” and here she 
had come to insinuate her baby life into that of 
her tender old grandparents, and to become their 
idol. Mattie and Dran’pa An were companions, 
almost constant, and apparently all-sufficient. 
Both of them seemed utterly unconscious of the 
disparity in their ages. They were together about 
the yards and in the fields when the nature of 
An’s work and the weather would permit, for 
hours at a time, and until the little legs would 
weary, when the old man would take her in his 
arms, carry her into the house, and put her in 
her crib. 

We saw him put her there once. She was al- 
ready asleep. Gene and I were in the room when 
he brought her in. We watched him, as kneeling 
beside her little bed, he softly laid her down. With 
awkward tenderness, that seemed the more tender 
because it was so awkward, he removed the little 
pink sunbonnet and tucked the quilts about her. 

27 


THE 


GANG 


He was doing this when we turned our faces 
away and gazed in silence out of the window, 
across the prairies, leaving them to themselves 
until the old man’s task was done ; and there was 
a trace of moisture in Gene’s eyes. 


28 


CHAPTER m 

A MNOCK AT THE DOOR 

S EATED at the table we waited for the eve- 
ning blessing; even the golden head of 
tiny Mattie bent low, and her long, dark 
lashes settled over her big blue eyes and 
rested softly on the warm, pink cheeks while An 
breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. But An did 
not talk religion much. He was more given to 
doing it. 

We discussed the recent general election. We 
talked of the vote on the presidency in this State 
and that ; of how So and So, candidates for Con- 
gress, had run in this county and that. We com- 
pared the pluralities in the State with that of other 
years, and we talked over the results in the county. 

Nobody,” remarked An, “ seems to pull 
through at election in Scudder County except a 
few who hobnob with Norm Skinner. It don't 
make any difference whether a man is a Democrat 
or a Republican, or what he is, or who nominates 
him, jest so's he's with them. It looks as though 
they had a little party all of their own that they 
think a dum sight more of than they do of any- 
thing or anybody else. Skinner acts as though he 

29 


THE 


GANG 


didn't want real, capable, honest men to get into 
the courthouse. Traid of 'em, I guess. It ain't 
right. It's mighty queer how Scudder County, 
made up as it is of as good people as live any- 
where, will let one such man run it. Norm Skin- 
ner has done this country a lot of harm." 

I don't see how Mrs. Skinner stands him," 
said Mrs. Russell. “ She's such a good woman. 
Her daughter, by her first husband, is coming 
back from Europe, or some school somewhere, 
soon, and is going to live here with them." 

This remark of womanly irrelevancy bringing 
forth no further comment on Skinner's wife or 
her daughter, I ventured, “ You might ask Gene 
what he thinks about Skinner." 

I was proud of his challenge of the gang in 
Freeman's store, and wanted to tell about it. 

“ Why, Marshall was ridin' past to-day," said 
An, and he was speakin' somethin' about it. 
Guess he heard Gene make a few rather p’inted 
remarks in the drug store the other night. John's 
a feller that likes to hear a man told the truth 
about himself once in a while." 

‘‘ What have you been doing now. Gene ? " 
asked Mrs. Russell. 

Then for her benefit I related the incident and 
repeated the conversation at the foot of the stair- 
way. 

After I had finished. Gene said, ‘‘ Now, Phil, as 


30 


A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 


is your wont, you’ve made a pretty big story out 
of nothing, haven’t you? ” 

‘‘ Gene, you must be careful,” said Mrs. Rus- 
sell, her tone full of caution. “ Norman Skinner 
is a dangerous man.” 

‘‘Yes, boy,” said An; “it is a row with the 
devil, but I guess it’s got to be fit, and mebbe you 
can do it’s well’s anybody.” An did not often 
approach so near as that to a personal compliment. 

We chatted on contentedly and happily. A 
spirit of comfortable, secluded comradeship settled 
upon us. The world that worries and nags was 
far away. It could not reach us. We were safe. 
Safe ? Who knows what black wings may now be 
bringing, flying swiftly toward us in the night? 
But we chatted contentedly and happily on. 

Suddenly there was a rap at the door. 

Instantly the feeling of conscious security gave 
place to dread expectancy. All voices were 
hushed. 

When the unexpected rap comes, the thing you 
are likely to think of first is the thing you fear 
most. It suggests disaster. If you have recently 
launched a ship on the treacherous waters of busi- 
ness, laden with all, or most, that you possess in 
this world, the first thought that darts through 
the mind is, that here is a courier bearing news of 
its wreck. 

If you have sometime in past years, in a mo- 

31 


THE 


GANG 


ment of evil, stooped to the level of crime, you 
grow sick with the sudden belief that it is an 
officer of the law, and that justice has at last over- 
taken you. 

If you are one of those good and noble mothers, 
who cares more for the comfort of friend and 
neighbor than for gold, and upon whose spotless 
conscience there is not even a trace of a thought 
of crime, your kind heart will chill at the sound of 
the knock, because you fear that it is a messenger 
from your neighbor again, who has at last 
brought the tidings that you have all day been 
dreading — that the little one who has for days 
been struggling with disease and death, has at 
length succumbed. 

After a moment’s silence and listening. An 
shouted, Come in ! ” The door opened, and in 
walked Glenn Taylor the deputy sheriff. 

“ Good evenin’, everybody,” said Taylor pleas- 
antly. 

“ Good evening,” responded Mrs. Russell, ris- 
ing and setting a chair toward him ; ‘‘ have a 
chair, Mr. Taylor.” 

‘‘ No, thanks, Mrs. Russell; I can’t stop long. 
Steve, could I speak to you a minute ? ” 

Certainly,” answered Steve, and he arose 
and followed Taylor out of the house, closing the 
door behind him. The others went on with the 
supper. They were out a long time. We finished 
32 


A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 


our supper, and collected about the fire made of 
new corn. Corn was that year, at ten cents a 
bushel, cheaper fuel than soft coal at seven or 
eight dollars a ton. 

After a time the door opened slowly and Steve 
came in. His face was ghastly white. He closed 
the door behind him, stood an instant looking at 
us, then sank into a chair, burying his face in his 
hands. 

“ Why, Steven! What ails you? ” It was his 
mother who spoke, and she rushed to his side and 
tried to lift his head. 

“ What is the matter ? ” 

For a moment he seemed to resist her efforts to 
look into his eyes, but shortly raised his face, 
lifted his eyes to hers, and answered, his voice 
strained and unnatural, “ Mother, Mr. Taylor has 
arrested me for forgery.” 

“ Not you, Steven I ” 

‘‘Yes, mother, me!” and again his face fell 
into his hands. 

All was still for a minute or two, then, 
“ Steven,” said his mother, and she raised his head 
and looked squarely into her son’s eyes, a hand 
on either of his cheeks, “ Steven — you — are — my 
— own — innocent — ^baby, and they can’t harm 
you.” 

She continued her searching look after utter- 
ing the words, and An, whose face showed deep 


THE 


GANG 


concern, turned and scanned his son’s countenance 
too. The young man now returned their look 
frankly and calmly. He answered the question 
they could not directly put, saying, No, I have 
done no wrong.” 

“ Mr. Jones, who swore out the warrant, 
wished me to take you in to-night, but I don’t see 
as it’s necessary. So far as I am concerned, I 
guess you can wait until to-morrow,” said Taylor, 
who had followed Steve inside. 

Mrs. Russell, with difficulty subduing her feel- 
ings, asked that Steve might remain until the 
morrow. Mr. Russell then pledged his word that 
Steve would be in Scudderville in the morning. 

If you say so, Mr. Russell, I’ll trust the matter 
with you, and take your word. The boy can come 
into Squire Peel’s office in the mornin’. Good 
night,” and he started for the door. “ You folks 
know this ain’t none of my doin’s, only as I have 
to do my duty ; and I hope the boy can show he’s 
all right. I don’t want no hard feelin’s against 
me in the matter.” 

Taylor had some aspiration to be sheriff some 
day ; and then, besides, he was not unkind. 

Good night, everybody,” and he was gone. 

But a few minutes ago we were all sitting about 
the table a picture, no doubt, of peace and enjoy- 
ment. And now — now all was in deep gloom. 
For a little time no one spoke. 

84 


A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 


Finally Mrs. Russell said, “ You’ll look after 
Steve in this matter, won’t you, Mr. Bradgate? 
He’ll need a lawyer, I suppose.” 

“ Mrs. Russell, I am not an experienced lawyer, 
and much less am I experienced in this class of 
cases. Some one else — Mr. Pierce, for instance — 
would render you much better service than I.” 

The next moment he regretted the suggestion 
of the name of Mr. Pierce, for Mrs. Russell re- 
plied, with a tinge of feeling in her voice, “ Mr. 
Pierce, I understand, is a criminal lawyer — de- 
votes his attention to the defense of criminals. 
We do not want him.” 

I will do as you wish,” Gene said quietly. 
Then he continued, turning to me, “We must go 
home.” 

“ Steve, you may come to my office in the morn- 
ing. I want to talk to you before going to the 
justice for the preliminary hearing. You under- 
stand, you will have a preliminary hearing before 
the justice. If he finds no evidence of guilt he 
will discharge you; while, if he thought best, he 
could bind you over to the grand jury for investi- 
gation. You may let me have a copy of the war- 
rant Taylor furnished you. I will look it over 
to-night.” 

Mrs. Russell and An both followed him to the 
door. On the threshold he paused, put out his 
hand first to one, then to the other. 

S5 


THE 


GANG 


'' Good night,” he said huskily. He held An’s 
hand for a minute. “ An, I’ll do the best I can. 
Like you, I have taken his word for the truth.” 

We passed out and, with the help of the hired 
man and his lantern, were soon mounted and 
started on our way. 

The night was almost as still as the cold stars 
that blinked at us unfeelingly. The tall corn 
along the roadside frowned upon us, as we passed, 
like dense black forests. There were scarcely any 
sounds save the rhythmic, resonant tread of the 
horses’ hoofs against the hard, pasty-packed, and 
dried earth in the track, and occasionally the anx- 
ious, plaintive honk of a bewildered and belated 
wild goose or brant lost from his flock. We rode 
at a walk. Men struggling with care, traveling 
at night on horseback, do not ride rapidly unless 
it is necessary. A horse soon catches his master’s 
gloomy mood and settles into a pace that accords 
with it. 

When we reached the cozy little room in the 
rear of his office where we slept. Gene threw him- 
self into his easy-chair, put his feet upon the 
fender of the hard-coal heater, and sat silently 
staring at the steady glow of the coals through 
the little panes of mica. The only movement he 
made was to take the warrant from his pocket; 
he studied it for a time then, letting the hand 
which held it fall to his knee, he resumed his 
36 


A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 


motionless stare into the firelight. It was thus I 
left him when I went to bed. Awakening in the 
night I saw him still keeping his silent, thought- 
ful vigil in front of the red coals. In the morning 
he was still up, pale and tired, at his desk, stu- 
diously reading a law volume. 

Only One, they say, has been able to get himself 
squarely under the burdens of the whole world. 
I am also told that He too was a friend and an 
advocate. 


S7 


CHAPTER IV 


JONES’ STORY 

A lthough the complaint had been made 
and the warrant issued for Steve’s arrest 
only the night previous, news of it had 
spread throughout the town. Already 
sentiment was crystallized against him. 

It appeared that W. S. Jones, senior member 
of Jones Brothers, the firm of grain buyers for 
whom Steve for two years had been at work, had 
sworn out the warrant. This circumstance left 
little or no room for doubt of Steve’s guilt. Mr. 
Jones was much of the time away from home, and 
kept himself generally aloof from local society, so 
that few Scudderville people were acquainted 
with him; but it was freely asserted that Jones 
had said Steve had committed the crime, and he 
must know. Jones would not make a charge of 
that kind unless he was backed by proof and could 
make it good. 

Returning from breakfast, at the foot of the 
stairs leading to his office. Gene said : Phil, I 
confess I don’t understand it. I know Mr. Jones 
has sworn out that information, but Phil — Phil — 
I feel that the boy is as innocent as an angel of 
88 


JONES 


STORY 


that crime ; but I don’t see through it. I wish this 
belonged to somebody else.” 

When we entered the office An and Steve were 
already there. The effect of the blow was appar- 
ent in An’s old face. Steve was considerably un- 
nerved. He declared he knew nothing of the 
facts upon which the charge was based, and asked 
Gene directly what the offense was which they 
claimed he had committed. 

‘‘ The warrant,” said Gene, in substance sets 
forth that some time in September you gave a 
check to one C. O. Glenn, upon the company’s 
account with the savings bank at Clear Creek, 
for nine dollars and thirty cents; that at the end 
of the month, after the bank returned this check 
with the other September checks to you, you 
raised the check, changing it to read ninety dol- 
lars and thirty cents; that you made the same 
changes in the bank book, showing an overdraft 
at the end of the month of five hundred and eleven 
dollars. To meet the overdraft you procured 
from Jones five hundred and eleven dollars, actu- 
ally paying into the bank for that purpose only 
four hundred and thirty dollars, keeping for 
yourself eighty-one dollars, the difference between 
the amount of the check and the amount it showed 
after the change.” 

Steve emphatically denied the whole transac- 
tion. He said he paid for purchases by checks 

89 


THE 


GANG 


on the savings bank, and that he had given Glenn 
checks; that he always received the checks back 
on the first of the month, and immediately sent 
them to Jones Brothers at Scudderville, with the 
bank book for inspection ; that at the end of Sep- 
tember there was an overdraft at the savings bank 
which Mr. Jones directed him to meet, and gave 
him currency one day at Scudderville for that 
purpose. The amount of the overdraft he could 
not recall. His impression was that it was four 
hundred and thirty dollars. The bank book 
would certainly show the amount. He had 
turned the book, with the September checks, over 
to Jones shortly after the month closed, for ex- 
amination. He was sure they were correct, for 
Jones had written him, as he always did after 
examining them, that they were all right. He 
remembered distinctly that he had so written 
after the inspection of the September checks and 
bank book ; for, at the end of September, he had 
closed the account with the Clear Creek Savings 
Bank, and transferred the firm account to the 
other bank, and Jones had retained in his pos- 
session, after the examination of the Septem- 
ber accounts, the checks and also the savings 
bank book. He said everything had gone 
smoothly between him and the firm, so far as he 
knew. He did recall the fact that Jones came to 
him complaining that he had heard that he, Steve, 
40 


JONES 


f 


STORY 


was going to quit Jones Brothers’ employ and 
go with a new and competing concern that the 
farmers were organizing for handling grain. 
Steve told him he had no thought of doing so, 
and, so far as he knew, everything was satis- 
factory. 

When Gene asked him where the letter from 
Jones was, which stated that the accounts were 
all right, he said it was in the files at Clear Creek, 
he supposed, where he had placed it. 

“ It’s strange,” Gene said finally. Jones has 
the check and the bank book and will swear they 
show this change. It must be true. I don’t un- 
derstand it. Andrew, you should get a better 
man than I am to look after this.” 

Gene,” said An slowly, ‘‘ if you believe in the 
boy, I would rather, and Pop would rather, you 
would look after it If you don’t, we both want 
you to drop it now.” 

Two pairs of steel gray eyes met for a moment 
in steady gaze, then Gene said, “ The justice is 
waiting for us; we must go.” 

They arose and set forth for Squire Peel’s 
office. 

The whole town was there — at least all of it 
that could get in. Those who could not get in 
crowded as near as possible, blocking the side- 
walk and stairway. The county attorney and 
Mr. W. S. Jones, the prosecuting witness, had 

41 


THE 


GANG 


already arrived. The latter looked worn and 
troubled. 

“ Jones seems to take it pretty much to heart,” 
somebody whispered. 

Yes, the boy has worked for him some time, 
you know; and Jones is one of them kind of 
men that hates to see a feller go wrong.” 

After Gene had had his appearance noted for 
the defendant, the county attorney asked as a 
personal favor that the hearing be adjourned for 
a few days. I could see that the application was 
a relief to Gene. He himself would probably 
like more time for preparation. But it is lawyer- 
like not to want to do, or at least to appear not 
to want to do, what the other lawyer wants to 
do. So, as most of his profession would have 
done under the circumstances, he indulged him- 
self in considerable discussion, throughout which 
such expressions as a speedy trial,” ‘‘ unneces- 
sary delay,” and ‘‘ tardy justice ” were inter- 
spersed with the usual frequency. At the sum- 
ming up, however, it was tolerably clear that Mr. 
Bradgate felt very much disposed to accord 
any possible personal accommodation to the 
county attorney.” 

After he had completed his remarks, Mr. Jones 
arose and said : 

Your honor, if I may be allowed to say a 
word, I wish to lend my voice to the assistance 

42 


JONES 


STORY 


of justice to this poor boy. I don’t want anything 
done that is going in any way to interfere with 
his having a fair trial. I am very, very sorry for 
the part I have to play in this sad proceeding, and 
I want the court to understand that, so far as I 
am concerned, I will let business and all other 
matters go to the winds rather than they shall 
stand in the way of this boy getting every chance 
to clear himself if he can.” 

After consultation between Steve and Andrew 
and Gene, and between Gene and the county at- 
torney and the justice, accompanied by Jones’ 
refrain, “ Anything so that the boy is protected,” 
it was agreed that the hearing be fixed for the 
fourth day following. In the meantime Steve was 
permitted his freedom upon his own recognizance 
and An’s assurance that the boy would be there. 

Poor An! He looked so white and old that 
morning; but he held his head just as proudly as 
ever— there was no apology in his manner. 

After the postponement the onlookers pushed 
out and streamed downstairs. Jones, as he was 
leaving, held out his hand to Steve, saying : 

Steven, I am sorry you did it.” 

''I didn’t do it, Mr. Jones; you know — you 
know I did not.” 

'' O Steven, Steven, this is too, too bad I ” re- 
sponded Jones sorrowfully, and he turned away 
and followed the others. 


48 


THE 


GANG 


The crowd poured out of the stairway and 
spread up and down the broad plank sidewalk. 

A knot of curious ones pressed about Jones 
and eagerly plied him with questions. The 
shriveled little gray-bearded man told the story 
in a painstaking way. It was substantially as he 
had given it in the warrant. Steve had reported 
an overdraft of five hundred and eleven dollars, 
and he had given him that amount to meet it. 
As soon as he examined the bank «book and 
check he saw evidences of figures having been 
changed. He immediately consulted Mr. Clay, 
the cashier of the bank, and learned that the over- 
draft was only four hundred and thirty dollars, 
and Steve had deposited only that amount. 

I was very, very careful not to let Mr. Clay 
know my suspicions. I would not hurt Steven 
for the world. But when I saw what he had 
done, the very next day I told Steven I knew all 
about it. He denied it at first, but finally con- 
fessed the whole thing. I thought I would turn 
him off at once, but I so hated to do it, and let 
him stay on till now. If I could have made my- 
self think it was right, I wouldn’t have had him 
arrested. But you know we owe something to 
the community; so I did my duty — though it 
was terrible hard. I had good reasons for think- 
ing he was planning to escape last night, so I felt 
I must send the officer right out. Taylor told me 
44 


JONES 


9 


STORY 


his lawyer was already there — evidently suspect- 
ing trouble. He was just in time.” 

“ That’s right. Taylor told me that too,” said 
Plumpy Baker, who was in the crowd of listeners. 
“ And,” Plumpy continued, “ I say, a man who’ll 
help a thief is as bad as a thief; I don’t care if 
he is a lawyer.” 

Skinner had seized the opportunity. Assisted by 
others, he had commenced the work of business 
and character destruction, with Bradgate as the 
victim. Gene had at least two battles on his 
hands — one against Skinner and one for Steve. 

There was some hope for him in the political 
controversy with Skinner, notwithstanding his 
opponent’s crafty skill and undying energy, be- 
cause he was right. But the championship of 
Steve’s cause looked a hopeless effort; for he 
must be wrong. 


45 


CHAPTER V 

STEVE’S PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION 

T he days that followed were dismal 
enough. Gene worked hard, but he was 
low-spirited. Many urged him to let 
Steve plead guilty, and thus save himself 
the professional ignominy of defending a man 
whose guilt was, in the popular mind, a foregone 
conclusion. They said Steve, his father, mother, 
and Gene should all take the sensible view of the 
case, and throw the defendant on the court’s 
mercy, and thus reach as quickly as possible the 
dreadful, but certain end. But all suggestions 
tending to such a course were instantly and indig- 
nantly brushed aside by Steve, his father and 
mother, and Gene stood with them. 

If the letter, the one Steve said Jones wrote 
after he examined the bank book and checks, 
could be produced, it would squarely contradict 
Jones’ story. Gene doubted the existence of such 
a letter, and thought Steve was in some way mis- 
taken. I thought he was lying. The letter-files 
of the Clear Creek office were inaccessible except 
by Jones Brothers’ consent. Gene concluded to 
make no effort to secure the letter until the pre- 
4 « 


PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION 


liminary trial, when he would ask for an order 
of court directing Mr. Jones to produce all cor- 
respondence. If Jones was attempting to conceal 
this evidence, a search by order of court and 
under supervision of an officer, might avail more 
than one made by agreement without such safe- 
guard. 

The day of the preliminary trial came. A raw 
north wind was hurrying southward an endless 
mass of leaden clouds. Looking out through the 
office windows it was bleak, indeed. The sky 
was gray. The prairie beyond the town was 
gray. The unpainted wooden store-fronts, oppo- 
site, were weather-beaten gray, and the dry street 
was ashen gray ; it was gray everywhere. 

An and Steve, when they came in dressed* for 
winter in great overcoats and big gum-shod felt 
boots, brought little warmth and brightness with 
them. 

When Gene and the Russells went up to the 
justice’s office, those who could be spared from 
the saloons, the barber shop, the pool halls, and 
livery stables, as well as some others, were al- 
ready assembling about the roaring hot stove. 

When all were ready the county attorney and 
Jones took seats on one side of the pine table, 
while Gene, Steve, and An sat on the other side, 
and the justice at the end. The county attorney 
put Mr. Jones upon the stand, when he repeated 

47 


THE 


GANG 


what he had said in the warrant and upon the 
street. 

Gene, on Steve’s request, asked Jones on 
cross-examination if he did not, after receiving 
the checks and bank book, write a letter to him, 
Steve, saying that he had examined the checks 
and accounts and that they were correct, or words 
to that effect. With much emphasis he denied 
writing any such letter ; he could not have written 
such a letter, because the checks and accounts 
were not right. He saw that when he first looked 
them over. 

Upon being asked if he would produce in court 
all the files of the Clear Creek office, including all 
the letters he and the firm had written to Steve, 
Jones promptly agreed to have them all in court 
at the afternoon session, or as soon as he could get 
them; or, if Mr. Bradgate preferred, the sheriff 
might get them. 

Jones’ consent and agreement to make the 
search in company with the sheriff rendered an 
order of the court for the papers unnecessary, and 
the eager willingness with which he consented 
banished all thought of the existence of such a 
letter. The check and bank book were offered, 
both showing plainly the alterations. Glenn testi- 
fied that the check was for nine dollars and thirty 
cents when given to him, and that he received 
only that amount on it. Clay, the cashier, said 
48 


PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION 


he had paid out but nine dollars and thirty cents 
on the check; that the overdraft was but four 
hundred and thirty dollars, and that Steve had 
deposited but that amount to cover it. Every- 
thing corroborated Jones. It was a very clear 
case. Steve had certainly changed the check and 
the bank book from nine dollars and thirty cents 
to ninety dollars and thirty cents, and had 
pocketed the difference — eighty-one dollars. 

Bradgate then asked for an adjournment of the 
case until afternoon, when Mr. Jones and the 
sheriff would bring the files from Clear Creek. 
This request was readily granted. Gene, An, 
Steve, and I went back to Gene’s office. We sat 
down, a gloomy group. 

“ Steve,” Gene said, “ we must have that 
letter.” 

“ It surely must be there at Clear Creek with 
the other letters,” Steve answered. 

“ We will hope so.” 

Mr. Jones and the sheriff returned in the after- 
noon with the letter-files. These were duly pre- 
sented for Bradgate and Steve to examine, to- 
gether with the copies of letters written at the 
Scudderville office, addressed to Steve or to the 
Clear Creek office. 

Steve went eagerly to work at the file, search- 
ing for the letter. He first looked in that portion 
of the files where he ordinarily and naturally 


THE 


GANG 


would have placed it. It was not there. Another 
place suggested itself to him — not there. A third 
was searched, and still it could not be found. 

“ ril look all the files through,'' he said. 

His hands trembling, the perspiration rolling 
down his face, over and over he fumbled the let- 
ters. He would not give up, although the jus- 
tice repeatedly admonished Bradgate that much 
time was being lost. 

“ Let the boy have all the time he wants — let 
him have all the time he wants," remarked Mr. 
Jones. 

Gene also carefully examined the copies. After 
much hunting, without success, Mr. Jones was 
called to the witness stand, and asked if he had 
produced all the letters and copies of letters re- 
lating to the Clear Creek office. 

** Everything, Mr. Bradgate ; it is all there un- 
less Steven has abstracted something," he an- 
swered. 

You have taken out, or destroyed, or con- 
cealed none of the letters or copies of letters writ- 
ten by you or your firm to Mr. Russell, before 
bringing these letters into court ? " 

‘‘ No, sir." 

A murmur of indignation passed through the 
listening assembly. 

‘‘ It was your custom," Gene asked, “ on receipt 
of the month's checks and bank book to check 


§0 


PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION 


them over, with the other records of your busi- 
ness, and acknowledge in writing their correctness 
when they were correct, to Mr. Russell, was it 
not?” 

Yes; I always did that when his accounts were 
right.” 

At last Steve gave up the search in despair, and 
broke down and cried, saying: 

“ It is not here. Oh, where — where is it? It 
is gone.” 

At Steve’s surrender the bystanders looked at 
each other knowingly. An straightened his broad 
shoulders and threw back his proud head. After 
Jones had left the stand, and Steve had recovered 
himself. Gene called Steve again, and he gave 
the contents of the ‘‘ lost ” letter, telling how he 
received it, written in Mr. Jones’ hand. 

The county attorney made no cross-examina- 
tion. It was unnecessary. He simply recalled 
Jones, who flatly denied the whole story about the 
letter. 

“ Of course I never wrote such a letter. It 
wasn’t the case, and I couldn’t write it. I knew 
the day I got the checks and the bank book that 
something was wrong, and I spoke to Steve about 
it the very next day. I wanted the boy to have a 
good fair chance to find it, but I knew it couldn’t 
be found, for it was never written. But, Mr. 
Bradgate,” turning to Gene, you are at liberty 

51 


THE 


GANG 


to go down to my office, both here and at Clear 
Creek, and look further for it at any time you 
wish/' 

The State waived argument as well as cross- 
examination of Steve. Nothing, it seemed, could 
be added, either to strengthen the State's case or 
to weaken Steve's. 

Gene also waived argument, assuming that the 
case would be sent to the grand jury, and that 
the fight for his client must be made on final 
trial. 

The justice, accordingly, rendered his opinion, 
saying that he could do nothing else than bind 
the defendant over to the grand jury. The evi- 
dence pointed to no other course. He could not 
regard the unsupported testimony of the defend- 
ant, whose interest in the outcome of the case 
exceeded that of any other person, against that 
of a gentleman without bias, “ unless it be a 
friendly bias in the young man’s favor." 

The bond was fixed in the sum of two thou- 
sand dollars, pending the furnishing of which the 
defendant was remanded to the custody of the 
sheriff. Gene left the courtroom, carrying not 
only the weight of Steve and An and Mrs. Rus- 
sell’s sorrow, but of an adverse public opinion. 
The defending by an attorney of one who “ every- 
body knows is guilty,” is looked upon with great 
disfavor. This is particularly true of new com- 
52 


PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION 


munities. The public does not concede to the 
advocate the privilege of discharging his profes- 
sional duties in that respect. It forgets that while 
the person charged may be convicted at the bar 
of public opinion, as a matter of law and as a 
matter of evidence, he may demonstrate his inno- 
cence at the bar of justice. It further forgets that, 
though guilty of some crime, a fair trial must be 
had in order to determine the degree and extent 
of the guilt, and to arrive at an intelligent basis 
upon which to reckon the nature and extent of 
the punishment. Sometimes the odium attaching 
to the defendant’s attorney is scarcely less than 
that endured by the accused himself. Especially 
is this true where the defense is entirely unsuccess- 
ful, as Steve’s had been thus far. The ends of the 
law are respected, but the means, though de- 
manded for a proper presentation of the case, 
often appear technical frivolities. 

This was the condition of the public mind in 
reference to Gene after Steve’s preliminary hear- 
ing. The circumstances tended to build up and 
fortify a prejudice against him, even stronger than 
would ordinarily be the case. 

The next day the “ Graphic ” came out in its 
regular weekly issue. It contained a full account 
of the arrest and trial, written in Black’s bold, 
slashing way, and voiced the general sentiment of 
the community in commending the justice for his 

53 


THE 


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wisdom in the finding in the case, stating that 
Steve was undoubtedly guilty, going on to say : 


Anybody with the sense of a groundhog could see 
that the defendant was guilty; but had there been any- 
body there who did not know as much as an under- 
ground swine, from over in Colfax County, he would 
have been able to fully understand the extent of young 
Russell’s guilt after his so-called attorney had gotten 
through with the case. 

Everything that should not have been done. Brad- 
gate did; and nothing that should have been done was 
attempted by him. The spectacle of the young man in 
the courtroom on trial for his liberty was but little 
more distressing to witness than were the unprofes- 
sional and senseless efforts of his attorney. 

It is not known when this man Russell first retained 
Mr. Bradgate to help him in his forgery business, but 
it seems that he had him for some time before any 
arrests were made — how long and for what purpose 
the public may never know. Suffice to say, that it is 
extremely fortunate for Mr. Jones, and somewhat re- 
markable too, that his loss was not greater than eighty- 
one dollars. But the same lack of ingenuity was prob- 
ably put into play there, as was evidenced in a legal 
way by the defendant’s attorney on the preliminary. 

Black was not afraid of personal violence, nor 
of the libel statutes. He considered it the legiti- 
mate field of the journalist to help personal 
friends and to crush personal enemies. He settled 
all controversies — social, political, and legal, in his 
columns. The sinners, and some saints, admired 
54 


PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION 


his general freehanded manner, and saint and 
sinner feared the wit and sting of his pen. On 
the whole, he wielded an extensive political, or, 
rather, personal influence, and at Skinner’s insti- 
gation he was now turning his guns on Gene. 
Many people, consciously or unconsciously, put 
great faith in “ what they see in the paper.” 
Black’s article hurt Gene’s standing. 

It now looked as though in both battles — the 
one against Skinner and the one for Steve — 
honest old Egypt was getting the worst of it. 
He realized the true condition of things better 
than any one else, but he never expressed a regret 
for having taken up Steve’s cause. As for the 
challenge he had delivered to Skinner, and his 
plans with reference to him and his crowd, he said 
little. Work and anxiety preyed upon him. His 
face was thinner even than usual, and there were 
dark rings under his eyes. 

In all the world there was no one dearer 
to me than this old college chum. I never told 
him so, but I think he knew it. Sometimes at 
night, after I had taken him in charge and got 
him early to bed, I would sit alone gazing into 
the glowing coal fire. The gloom which was set- 
tling about him was creeping into my heart too. 
In his whole life, made up of honest effort, he had 
never done a more commendable thing than when 
he threw down the gauntlet in front of the all- 

55 


THE 


GANG 


powerful Skinner, or than when he took up 
Steve’s cause. Yet these very things, noble as 
they were, seemed about to work his business, 
social, and political ruin in the community which 
he had selected for his life’s home, and which he 
had learned to love. 


56 


CHAPTER VI 

THE PLUM GROVE UTERARY SOCIETY 

P HIL,” said Gene to me one afternoon a few 
weeks later, I must go out to Brown’s 
schoolhouse to-night. A committee of the 
Plum Grove Literary Society, which meets 
there, hoping that an all-wise Providence would 
send a blizzard and thus keep me in town, has 
asked me to speak to-night.” 

Yes,” I answered; I heard the cordial invi- 
tation which the committee, August Mueller, ex- 
tended you, and I further heard his comments 
after you had accepted. As I recollect, it was 
about this: ‘ Very gute, very gute, Mr. Bradgate! 
That will save me the troubles of looking any 
more somewhere for somebody else to make dat 
speech. I made me much bodder anyhow already. 
I see Lawyer Pierce, und he say ‘‘ It vas too cold 
for me to go,” und then I see Lawyer Smith, und 
he say can’t go, und den I go to dem oder lawyer 
fellows, und they all say they can’t go, anyhow yet 
already. But I got to get somepody pretty quick 
so I can go home and feed mein pigs, so I come to 
you, und now you say you go. Now I have time 
to go home and feed mein pigs.’ Under the cir- 

57 


THE 


GANG 


cumstances, I felt very strongly persuaded that 
you should go.” 

Gene was lighter-hearted than at any time since 
Steve’s arrest, and listened amiably to my imita- 
tion of Mr. Mueller’s broken English. 

We’ll hitch Pete and Pegasus to the swell- 
box,” he said, ‘‘ and drive out.” 

It was after five o’clock in the evening when 
we started. A foot of snow covered the ground, 
and, contrary to what is usual in the Northwest, 
it had fallen without wind and lay evenly spread 
over the prairie and stubble, and through the fields 
of dead cornstalks. The day had begun with a 
clear blue sky. As the morning wore on, a cloud 
had gradually crept up from the northwest, and 
now covered the whole sky. The air, which for 
the last few days had been crisp and frosty, had 
grown noticeably more chilling. Gene remarked 
upon the probability of more snow during the 
night. The roads were fine for sleighing. Pega- 
sus and Pete had not been out that day and were 
very gamy.” Now and then we dashed past a 
farmer’s ‘‘ pung ” — a home-made pine-knot sled. 
The snowballs from the horses’ heels pelted our 
swellbox dashboard, and made us keep the wide 
collars of our big fur coats turned up to protect 
our faces. We reached Mr. Mueller’s by seven 
o’clock, put up the team, and went over to the 
schoolhouse, which was only a few rods away. 

58 


THE LITERARY SOCIETY 


I had never visited a country “ literary ” in the 
West. On the way out I recalled the debates, 
‘‘ recitations,” the “ select readings,” and the 
music,” and the little overheated schoolroom 
at similar gatherings in the district schoolhouse 
on winter nights, in hilly, snowy Pennsylvania. 
Especially did I remember the tramping home 
afterward, with a little, saucy, black-eyed miss 
— that is, when the capricious young lady would 
permit it. 

The schoolhouse was planned after the usual 
pattern of Western country school buildings, a 
neatly built frame structure about eighteen by 
thirty feet, painted white, with an entry ” par- 
titioned off in the front, and on each side a row 
of three windows. In the entry we came upon 
two or three boys, who, with much tumult, were 
snatching the scarfs, veils, and other wrappings 
from the heads of a number of girls, and fantas- 
tically winding them all about another struggling, 
wriggling, twisting, choking, giggling girl, who 
could not have gotten away from them if she had 
really wanted to. Our appearance stopped the 
fray. The boys looked at us and at one another 
rather sheepishly, and the girls whose wrappings 
had been taken away, hung their heads and 
blushed and snickered as they liberated their com- 
panion. 

After removing our fur coats we went into the 

59 


THE 


GANG 


main room, to the high, round, soft-coal stove, 
which stood in the middle of it. The room was 
crowded. The two rows of seats, the aisles on 
either side, and the middle space, were full of 
bronzed men and boys, and ruddy-faced women, 
while against the rear wall stood a row of people. 
There were Yankees from New England and New 
York, Germans, Swedes, Irish, and Scotch, Hoo- 
siers, and natives of Illinois, Ohio, Michigan, and 
Pennsylvania. They were all mingling together 
in jovial, friendly converse, evidencing, most of 
them, the full enjoyment of robust health, active 
minds, and industrious habits. 

Good evening, Mr. Bradgate,’’ said Mr. Will- 
iams, the president of the society. ‘‘ Long, chilly 
ride! Glad you came. Have been looking for 
you. Asked Miss Walton if you were coming, 
but she didn’t seem to know much about it. You 
ought to come out together, all you town folks. 
That’s the way we used to do in Illinoy when I 
was your age, Mr. Bradgate. If I’d been in your 
place, I wouldn’t ’ve thought of lettin’ Miss 
Walton come clear out here jest ’long o’ her little 
brother, ha-ha-ha ! ” 

August Mueller seconded him, You bet dat 
so, Mr. Villiams, ha-ha-ha I ” 

‘‘ What do you say about it. Miss Walton ? ” 
asked Mr. Williams, turning toward an uncom- 
monly fair young woman, attractively dressed in 
60 


THE LITERARY SOCIETY 


a soft, warm cloth of blue, who was standing by 
the stove; her long sealskin cloak and cap lying 
on a chair beside her. A boisterous laugh fol- 
lowed this crude attempt at humor of the old man 
from Illinoy. Miss Walton turned her big blue 
eyes on Mr. Williams and said, laughing : 

‘‘ Why, Mr. Williams, I hardly know what I 
think about it, never having met either of these 
gentlemen before. You see, I am hardly pre- 
pared to answer.” 

'‘Oh, ho! Don’t know ’em? Veil, they’ll pass, 
I guess, though I can’t brag on ’em such an awful 
sight for looks. This one is Mr. Bradgate. He’s 
one of our young lawyers. And this one is Mr. 
Blair.” 

She arose and stepped forward to meet us. The 
companionable spirit of the girl spoke in her 
merry eyes, her small, mobile face, sweet and 
winsome, and in every vivacious movement of 
her slight, lithe, graceful body. We shook hands, 
laughing at the quaint introduction. 

Mr. Walton, her father, had died when Ruth, 
as she was called, was an infant. A number of 
years later her mother, then living in Indiana, met 
and married Norman Skinner. Not long after, 
Ruth was placed in the home of a sister of her 
father in New York State. Some said the 
mother, when she learned more fully Skinner’s 
character, determined not to rear her daughter 

61 


THE 


G A N G 


within the sphere of his influence. Mr. Walton, 
a well-to-do business man, had provided liberally 
for his child’s rearing and education. 

She had made regular vacation visits to Scud- 
derville up to about four years prior to this time. 
Since then she had completed her college work, 
and had spent her time in travel and studying 
music abroad. Gene and I had heard of her ar- 
rival, but we had not seen her until now. It 
seems Mr. Williams had met her in her step- 
father’s office a few days before. Knowing that 
she could sing, he asked her to go out to the 
schoolhouse and sing for the “ special pro- 
gramme.” Probably he was surprised when she 
agreed to go. And he may have been more sur- 
prised when, on this chilly December night, she 
came, her fourteen-year-old half-brother, Charley, 
with her, to fulfil the promise. 

After chatting with us a few minutes, Mr. 
Williams mounted the little platform at the end 
of the room, tapped the teacher’s bell, and asked 
the house to please come to order.” Seats were 
vacated for Miss Walton, Charley Skinner, Gene, 
and me. Mr. August Mueller thought he would 
better “ call in dem poys and gals,” and he lum- 
bered across the room to the door and shouted, 
‘‘ Come in ! Come in ! Quickly ! ” and as the 
rompers of the entry passed him, still looking a 
little foolish because of their recently interrupted 
62 


THE LITERARY SOCIETY 


scrimmage, August admonished them to stop 
this foolishness business a little sometime, any- 
way, ha-ha-ha ! 

The programme opened at once. The first 
number was a song, “ One Day Nearer,’' by a 
quartet. The school-teacher, a high-school gradu- 
ate from Scudderville, sang tenor; a Miss Bro- 
gan, soprano-fortissimo (the term may not be 
musically exact, but that is the way she sang it), 
and Miss Meeks, the young lady whom we had 
found in the entry, overburdened with wraps, 
sang alto. Our German friend, August, came 
down vociferously and perspiringly on the basso 
profundo. 

At the close of the song the applause was tre- 
mendous, and wound up with a loud “ Good for 
Gussie,” from the back seats. Gussie ” smiled 
as broadly as his ears would permit. 

Following the quartet was the Address of 
Welcome ” by the president, and then The 
Wreck of the Hesperus ” was recited by a little 
Swedish lady of about fifteen summers. 

Then came Gene’s speech. His subject was 
Legislation Needed by the Farmer.” He 
usually had an earnestness in public address that 
was very effective; but as soon as he began to- 
night it was plain he was not at his best. Nor 
did he grow in strength. There seemed to be 
a constraint from which he could not escape, al- 
es 


THE 


GANG 


though he was trying hard. He stumbled along 
for a time and finally sat down, receiving a weak 
and scattering applause, and without saying half 
he intended to say, and having said the rest very 
poorly. August evidently felt that as the com- 
mitteeman who had secured Gene’s services, some 
explanation was due from him and, although Mr. 
Williams, with much embarrassment, endeavored 
to repress him, the irrepressible Mr. Mueller cap- 
tured the floor and had his say. 

“ I vish to remark, mein friendts, vot vos der 
reason why I got Mr. Bradgate. I go down to 
Scudder town and I asks Mr. Pierce, ‘ Vill you 
come oudt? ’ und he say, ‘ No, too cold.’ Then I 
ask Mr. Smith, und he say, ‘ No,’ und so I ask 
dem Oder fellows, und dey say ‘ No,’ too. Und 
den I say to myself, ‘ I got to go und feed mein 
pigs ; I must get somepody ’; so I go to Mr. Brad- 
gate und he say he come, and then I go home und 
feed mein pigs. Und to-night Mr. Bradgate he 
come, und I guess he do the best he could, und 
you must find no troubles mit me. I could get 
dem Oder fellers mebbe next time, or some oder 
man; dat’s all.” Then he sat down. 

For a moment the audience, out of respect for 
Gene, endeavored to conceal their amusement, 
then, giving up the effort, burst into a hearty and 
uproarious laugh. At this Gene again stood and, 
with an engaging smile, dashed impromptu into a 
64 


THE LITERARY SOCIETY 


telling speech, sparkling with the keenest wit, the 
burden of which was to exonerate Mr. Mueller 
from the culpability that might attach to the se- 
rious offense he had committed. In a moment 
they were all at close attention. In another mo- 
ment they were laughing. Then they shouted 
and clapped and stamped. And hardly would 
they subside until he would set them off again. 
He was surely “ making a hit ” now. Finally, at 
his brilliant finish, there was a demonstration, 
long, loud, and tremendous. After several futile 
efforts at suppressing them, Mr. Williams at last 
succeeded in restoring order. August must have 
the last word. When the applause had suffi- 
ciently subsided to permit him to be heard, he 
said : 

‘‘ Vy you no talk like dat in the first blace? 
Den we say nothing about you — ha-ha-ha ! 
You’re all right, Mr. Bradgate! ” Gene had en- 
tirely vindicated himself. 

- Next came the debate. This was the question : 

Resolved, That Grant was a greater soldier 
than Washington.” The president appointed two 
judges, himself acting as a third. Each side had 
two debaters. The speakers were the teacher, a 
justice of the peace, Mr. Williams’ hired man, and 
R. Waldo Franklin. The last-named gentleman, 
during the few weeks he had been in the neigh- 
borhood, had posed as a medical student. The 

65 


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THE 


GANG 


teacher and Mr. Williams’ hired man won with 
the affirmative, against the justice and R. Waldo 
with the negative. On the whole, the hired man 
made the best argument, though the school- 
teacher did well; but the justice was the most 
entertaining of all. His tall, angular figure, red 
hair, freckled face, with shrewdly twinkling blue 
eyes, made him interesting to look at, if he was 
not handsome. He did not seem to be much con- 
cerned with his subject. He said he “ would leave 
the great burden of that to my talented colleague, 
Mr. R. Waldo Franklin”; but he was bent on 
showing us all a good time, which he did. He 
seemed determined too, throughout, to impress 
upon us what a wonderful argument was about 
to be made in behalf of his side of the subject, by 
‘‘ my eloquent associate, Mr. R. Waldo Franklin,” 
and that if there was the slightest doubt in the 
minds of the honorable judges as to the relative 
merits of the two soldiers on trial, it would be 
promptly cleared up by the matchless orator, 
my friend, Mr. R. Waldo Franklin.” 

Each reference to “ Mr. R. Waldo Franklin ” 
was greeted with the most gleeful applause. Mr. 
R. Waldo Franklin looked like his name. He 
parted his hair in the middle. I had no doubt, 
after seeing and hearing him, that the justice and 
the audience had him properly classified. There, 
is no gainsaying one’s legal right to write his 
66 


THE LITERARY SOCIETY 


name and comb his hair as he pleases, but “ R. 
Waldos,” with their hair parted in the middle, 
were not very plentiful (nor in all cases, popular) 
in the West then. 

Miss Walton's part, a vocal solo, was the next. 
She went to Miss Brogan’s melodeon, which had 
done service years ago back in Indiana, struck the 
key, and then, without accompaniment, sang the 
song which we all love to hear, simple and old, 
but always finding a responsive chord in the heart 
of the listener — “ My Old Kentucky Home.” 

From beginning to end no sound was heard 
save her voice. The audience scarcely breathed. 
They were not musicians, but they were human. 
As for me, I was no longer in the great West. It 
was not winter. I was back in dear old Penn- 
sylvania. It was a sleepy, sunny, summer after- 
noon. I was a barefoot boy stretched out in the 
shade of a big apple tree, listening to the birds 
flitting about above me, and to the tinkle of the 
cool waters of the little brook in the orchard. 
The song reached us all. 

The last note died away, and the singer re- 
sumed her seat. The first to speak was August. 

“ You please sing something again. Miss Val- 
ton,” he said huskily. 

‘‘Yes, Miss Walton,” added Mr. Williams, 
“ we should like another song.” 

Again she sang, and even more tenderly than 

67 


THE 


GANG 


before — “ Annie Laurie.” Every eye watched and 
every ear listened as she sang with face, form, and 
voice the passion-laden song. There was an 
‘‘ Annie Laurie,” living or dead, maybe, in every 
heart. 

As she ceased the applause broke forth, a wave 
and a roar. There was one who took no part in 
the demonstration. It was Robert Todd, a sturdy 
old Scotchman. He simply sat still and wept. 

The entertainment closed with the singing of 
“ America ” by the audience. 

“ Everybody stand up, and everybody sing,” 
said Mr. Williams spiritedly. And they did. 

It was interesting to watch, and then join with 
August Mueller and Uncle Robert Todd. Their 
earnest faces and lusty voices proved their in- 
tense sincerity. I doubt not either of them would 
have stood to the death, if necessary, for each and 
every sentiment of the nation’s hymn. 

When it comes to the consideration of such men 
as these, from whatever country they may come, 
the foreign immigration question in the farming 
sections of the West is not how to keep them 
away, but how to get more of them. 

The programme finished, the audience dis- 
persed. 


68 


CHAPTER VII 

A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 

W HEN we stepped out of doors we felt 
the snow falling in fine, hard pellets, 
striking against our faces. The wind 
was gradually rising from the north- 
west. But for the whiteness of the snow there 
would have been almost utter darkness. 

Blizzard, Em afraid,’' remarked Mr. Will- 
iams; and he went on to say, You Scudderville 
folks better put up ’long o’ me to-night. Can’t 
tell how soon this storm will get pretty bad. 
Looks to me like a genuine old-fashioned blizzard 
coming.” 

Oh, thank you for your kindness, Mr. Will- 
iams,” answered Miss Walton ; but as for 
Charley and me, I think we can get home all right. 
It will not take us long, will it, Charley? ” 

‘‘ Naw, we’ll make it all right. You get ready. 
Sis, and I’ll go over to Mr. Williams and get the 
team. I’ll be back in less ’n no time.” 

Well, I s’pose if you think you and Charley 
can make it, it won’t be much use askin’ these 
young men to stop,” said Mr. Williams, turning 
to us. 


69 


THE 


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'' No, I thank you,” answered Gene. I think 
we shall get along all right.” 

He spoke slowly, scrutinizing the sky the while. 
Mr. Williams noticing his hesitation, said : You 
are perfectly welcome, all of you ; we’ll store you 
away somewhere, if you will stay.” 

Gene, who was still studying the weather, made 
no reply. Miss Walton answered : 

‘‘ I think Charley and I had better go. Mother 
will be expecting us.” 

Charley had left his horses at Mr. Williams’, 
about the same distance from the schoolhouse, but 
in a different direction from Mr. Mueller’s, where 
we had sheltered Pete and Pegasus. He went 
after them alone. We left Miss Walton at the 
schoolhouse with Mr. Williams, while we went to 
Mr. Mueller’s barn and hitched our team to the 
cutter and started. Gene was driving. When we 
reached the road he stopped. 

“ I don’t know,” he said, “ but we ought to 
wait for that young man, Skinner. I suppose 
they will come this way. I am inclined to believe 
that Williams is right, and that we may have a 
pretty hard storm. I suppose the boy knows the 
way as well as we.” 

“ If he don’t know the way, that sister of his 
will show him, I think,” I remarked. She im- 
pressed one as being well able to care for herself.” 

We waited, however, some little time, but 


70 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


Skinner did not appear. Finally, Gene slowly 
and with evident reluctance turned his team into 
the rapidly filling track and started for Scudder- 
ville, which was north of us. Before we had gone 
a mile, Gene said : 

Phil, the wind is rising. If it gets much 
stronger, there will be no track to follow in a 
little while. This is going to be a regular bliz- 
zard. That young Skinner and his sister should 
have stopped at Williams’. They must have done 
so, or they most surely would have been along 
by this time.” 

What makes you so mighty anxious about 
young Skinner and his sister ? I thought you had 
a row on with Skinner.” 

But I have not contemplated freezing the 
family to death.” There was still time and oppor- 
tunity to turn into some convenient farmhouse 
and put up for the night, but nothing was said 
about that, and we drove on. In later years, 
since the growth of planted trees and hedges, and 
the dotting of the prairies with buildings, the 
winds do not sweep across them with such fear- 
ful velocity as then. The blizzards are not now 
regarded with the dread with which they were 
looked upon by the earlier settlers of the treeless 
and almost trackless and fenceless plains. Then 
to be lost in a blizzard meant, sometimes, a few 
hours of agonized, bewildered wandering, grow- 

71 


THE 


GANG 


ing fatigue, and finally the irresistible sleep, 
gradually culminating in death. 

The Brown schoolhouse was about eight miles 
south, and three and one-half miles east of Scud- 
derville. The best road into Scudderville led first 
a mile north from the school, west two miles, 
thence north along the east side of Badger River 
one mile, and west again perhaps half a mile, 
crossing the river over what was called the Black 
Bridge, and then turning north on the west side 
of the river — six miles farther, into Scudderville. 
There was not much fencing here. In many 
places the windings of the river brought its banks 
close to the road, while in others it receded from 
it, sometimes as much as half a mile. Scattered 
oak and box-elder trees fringed the river on either 
side, and in many places, down at the water’s 
edge, were bending willows. 

By the s time the river road was reached, the 
wind was blowing hard, the snow filling the air 
and practically obliterating the track most of the 
way. But we kept on without difficulty and made 
good time. The trees along the river to the west 
offered a little protection. When, however, we 
came to the turn leading across the bridge, the 
wind had become a veritable gale, and the snow 
was so blinding that only with much trouble was 
the turn made at the right place to reach the 
bridge; for a track continued north along the 
72 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


river on the east side. It was necessary to get 
out and walk about in the snow until the beaten 
track was found. We finally crossed the bridge 
safely, and turned north again into the road on 
the west side of the river. 

It was hard to make the horses head against 
the storm, which was now driving straight from 
the northwest. The road here was unfenced. 
Although the storm had seemed to me, repeatedly, 
during the last half hour or more, to have reached 
its height, it demonstrated in subsequent moments 
a greater fury. Several times Pete and Pegasus 
were veered by its force out of the track, eastward 
toward the river; and several times when Gene 
had reined them toward the west, again exposing 
their faces and eyes to the storm s relentless rage, 
the poor fellows, usually so obedient, evinced a 
disposition to refuse to go on. Once or twice they 
stubbornly stopped, and gave further sign of their 
unwillingness to face the tempest by whinnying 
and squealing. After one of these protests, we 
had started them again, and had been driving for 
several minutes without emphatic objections on 
their part to the course we vJ^ere taking, when we 
suddenly noticed a little unusual roughness in 
the ground over which we were passing. Pres- 
ently the cutter shoes began striking against hum- 
mocks and sticks. This was evidence that we 
were out of the track, so we again came to a 

73 


THE 


GANG 


standstill, and I got out. Going in front of the 
horses I discovered that we had all but driven 
fairly into a clump of small oak trees. I went 
entirely around the cutter, but could find no in- 
dications of the roadway. 

Don’t get out of sight of the team,” shouted 
Gene, “ for you may have trouble in getting 
back.” 

The wind now howled so that one had to shout 
to be heard at all, even a few feet away. I was 
quite ready to follow his instructions; for in the 
blinding snow I could scarcely discern the out- 
line of the horses more than five feet from them. 

I can’t find any sign of a road,” I said, after 
three or four trips around. 

You get in and hold the team while I explore 
a little.” 

I did as he directed. He got out, and flounder- 
ing toward the trees, disappeared in the darkness. 
Presently he returned with his report. 

“ Phil, we are right against the bank of the 
river. It’s not more than twenty feet through 
these trees to the bank. Further than that, I can’t 
tell where we are or how to get away. I believe 
the safest thing for us to do is to unhitch right 
here and lead the horses down on to the ice. The 
river banks all through here are high and will 
break off the wind. We can drag the cutter down 
too, and with that and the robes we can stand it, 
74 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


I guess, until daylight — something we may not 
be able to do if we get out on the prairie again. 
Besides, I don’t think we can make the team face 
this storm. I believe this is the best shelter we 
shall find to-night. I hope that young Skinner 
had sense enough to stay at Williams’.” 

“ Don’t keep worrying about the Skinners,” I 
said ; we’ve troubles enough of our own. You’re 
in command ; and if you say camp here, here we 
camp.” 

While I was talking I had gotten out of the 
cutter again, and was helping to unhitch the 
horses. Gene and Pegasus then led the way and 
Pete and I followed closely through the narrow 
strip of oak trees to the bank’s edge, then down 
a steep incline, twelve feet or more, to the solid 
frozen surface of the river. The stream (it 
should have been called a creek rather than a 
river) was not over twenty feet in width between 
the banks. We had no more than reached the 
ice when we found good shelter. The raging 
wind passed above our heads and left us in com- 
parative quiet. Considerable snow, however, 
sifted down upon us. We were tying the horses 
to the overhanging limbs of a willow when our 
attention was suddenly arrested by the shrill 
neighing of another horse, apparently close to us, 
on the farther bank of the stream. I recognized 
the animal’s cry at once. It was the peculiar call 

75 


THE 


GANG 


which I had often heard from a white-faced sor- 
rel gelding belonging to Norman Skinner. 

Gene recognized it too, for he cried, There’s 
that young Skinner ! ” 

“And his sister,” I added; but Gene couldn’t 
have heard me, for he had instantly darted off in 
the darkness in the direction of the sound. The 
horse repeated its cry. A moment later I heard it 
again, but farther away. It was clear enough 
what had happened. Young Skinner and his 
sister had undoubtedly started after some delay, 
and failing to find the turn leading to the Black 
Bridge, had remained on the east side of the river, 
and were now wandering about there. If they 
should leave the river at this point, their situation 
would become extremely dangerous, because on 
the east side lay a tract known as the Big Pasture, 
an open prairie stretching along the river from the 
Black Bridge, northward, almost to Scudderville, 
and extending eastward four or five miles, with 
little fencing, one or two cattle corrals, and only 
a shack or two where the men, who there herded 
cattle during the grazing season, were sheltered. 
No wanderer could hope to find safety there on 
such a night as this. 

After waiting some time, and Gene not return- 
ing, I concluded to attempt to join him in his 
search. But on reaching the east bank I reflected 
that the best assistance I could render would be 

76 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


to stay there and repeatedly shout to him. He 
might have trouble in finding his way back, and 
my voice would serve as guide. At brief intervals 
I called as loudly as I could. No word came in 
response, nor could I get any indication of the 
whereabouts of the Skinner team. Perhaps the 
boy in bewilderment had really turned them east- 
ward from the river out on the Big Pasture. Or, 
more likely, drifting away with the wind, the 
horses had turned of their own accord, and the 
lost driver was giving them the reins. Gene must 
be out there trying to overtake them. I continued 
my shouting, conscious of the favorable circum- 
stance that the wind would carry my voice toward 
them if they were out on the prairie. 

The storm was swooping down now, a veritable 
hurricane. Great sheets of the fallen snow it 
would snatch up and hurl up and over, down and 
around the bushes and trees, into and out of and 
into again every discoverable nook, corner, and 
crevice, cutting and slashing against everything 
in its path. When I faced it I could scarcely get 
my breadth. At last, after a long time of anx- 
ious calling. Gene's voice answered. The reply 
did not come from the eastward, out in the open, 
as I had expected, but from the river, behind and 
below me; indeed, from the point where our 
horses were tied. Hurrying back, I found him 
there. He said breathlessly : 


77 


THE 


GANG 


“ Charley Skinner and Miss Walton are down 
there. They were lost, and wandering about on 
the east side of the river. I took them on to the 
ice below here a dozen rods or so. I think we’d 
better lead our horses down with theirs. Take 
our cutter too. It’ll help make a shelter. It’s 
going to be colder before morning. They can’t 
get along alone.” 

“ They could not find the bridge, I suppose ? ” I 
said. 

No,” he answered. Instead of making the 
turn and crossing the bridge, they kept on the 
east side of the river.” 

I understood. Taking the great risk of being 
lost himself, he had followed them, overtaken, 
and saved them. 

We went up on the west bank, to the place 
where we had left our cutter, and ran it to the 
river’s edge and let it down on the ice. Then, 
feeling our way along the watercourse, in a 
little time we came upon Charley and his sister, 
where Gene had left them. Miss Walton was 
sitting in their cutter, which had been pulled up 
under the bank, while Charley was looking after 
the horses. 

“ It seems,” she said, that we ‘ town folks ’ 
are bound to make up a party of our own accord- 
ing to Mr. Williams’ suggestion, whether we plan 
it or not. But,” she continued more soberly, 

78 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


“ I am so sorry for the trouble my brother and I 
are making you. But I suppose there isn’t any 
time now to waste in apologies.” 

She and Charley for the present being safe, 
Gene and I returned for our horses, and led them 
to the sheltered place where Charley had tied his 
team, and strapped blankets upon them. 

It was not yet very cold, though the tempera- 
ture was steadily falling. Gene suggested that 
we gather some dry sticks and build a fire if 
possible. Accordingly, we all, including Miss 
Walton, set to picking about the bank for such 
pieces of dead wood and sticks as we could find, 
and in a little while we had accumulated quite a 
pile. 

“ There’s a haystack just out from the trees 
here a little way,” said Gene. ‘‘We ran against 
it when we were coming back. I’ll go up and get 
an armful. It will help start the fire.” 

“ And the horses can have some too,” said 
Charley. 

“ I’ll go along and bring some for them.” 

“ And I’ll go too,” said Miss Walton quite 
gaily; “ we’ll all go.” 

Gene suggested that she would better “ watch 
the garrison.” She insisted, however, saying, 
“ I think Charley and I should do our share of 
the haying, especially since we are a little late 
with our crop, and we and the horses need hay.” 

79 


THE 


GANG 


“ O fellows,” said Charley, you might as 
well keep still, if Sis really wants to go. Let her 
bring the haystack down if she wants to.” But 
we prevailed on her to stay in the cutter. 

Accordingly, the three of us clambered up the 
bank, and pushed through the bushes and snow 
and small timber to the edge of the open, where 
we struck the stack. Gathering as much of the 
hay as we could hold, and hugging it to us to save 
it from the tweaks and twitches of the wind and 
brush, we plowed in the same laborious fashion 
back to camp. The most of the harvest we gave 
to the horses, and with the remainder stuffed well 
down under a heap of sticks, we soon had a merry 
fire started. 

We had gathered our fuel together under the 
bank, well sheltered from the north and west, but 
far enough from the bank to permit us to get be- 
tween it and the fire, to be the better protected 
from the wind. Then we closed either side of the 
space between the fire and the bank with a cutter 
turned upon the side, runners outward. We had 
not yet found much big wood for fuel, or such as 
would serve to keep the fire long. Gene observed 
that with two or three logs we could keep the fire 
throughout the night. 

‘‘ I think I could find ’em,” said Charley. ‘‘ I 
ain’t sure, but I think we ain’t far from a place 
where us boys started a camp two years ago, 

80 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


an’ cut down some small oak trees and was goin’ to 
make a log-house. After we got a dozen or two 
logs cut, we got tired of it and quit. The blamed 
stuff was too tough. They ain’t very big, prob’ly 
six or eight inches through, an’ prob’ly eight or 
ten feet long, but they ought to burn good by this 
time. I’m pretty sure I remember the box-elder 
limb crooking out over the river just where we 
tied our horses. I think it ain’t far from that 
to the little wire foot bridge we made across the 
river — that is, if the foot bridge ain’t washed 
away. I’ll go and see if I can find it. I don’t 
believe it’s more than twenty rods from here. 
Our camp was right close to the bridge.” 

He started down stream, and I with him, while 
Gene went after more hay. We had not gone far 
when Charley, who was walking ahead, called 
out : 

“ There ’t is ! ” And sure enough there hung 
the little bridge. We had almost run against it. 

Up this side,” said Charley, climbing the right 
bank. I followed, and just a few feet from the 
end of the bridge we found the little logs lying in 
a square — the foundation of a house. There are 
a great many foundations in the world that have 
never been built upon. 

Charley, you’re a trump ! ” I said. “ Here’s 
wood enough to last a week.” 

I quickly grabbed a log and started back to 
F 81 


THE 


GANG 


camp. I thought on my way that in an emergency 
like this, one good, noisy, American boy was 
worth more than an army as big as that of 
Xerxes. That great command contained a vast 
number of boys, doubtless, but they weren’t 
American boys! Boys are considered useless in 
the world until we want something done. While 
they annoy one dreadfully up to that time, from 
that moment, until their usefulness is over, they 
are pretty apt to be found quite agreeable mem- 
bers of society — often with a positive genius for 
doing things, and by the shortest cut and with 
the best results. 

With such reflections I toiled down the bank 
with my log. But this fourteen-year-old boy had 
more practical sense than I. He dragged his log 
to the bank’s edge and pitched it down on the ice, 
and went back after more before climbing down 
himself. Of course, he nearly broke my back 
with his log as he pitched it down, but I did not 
blame him. I should have known enough to 
keep out of the way. Following his lead, I went 
back, and we threw down a number more. 

It did not take long to get a good supply, for 
I worked fairly well; and, as for Charley — well, 
when a boy (without being told) makes up his 
mind to do a thing, he does it then, and he does 
it fast. 

We got down on the ice, and each took a log 


82 


A BLIZZARD AND A GJRL 


to camp. And then the wide scope of the boy’s 
knowledge of how to do things out of doors ap- 
peared. 

“ We’ll get some more logs, Philly.” I had 
never spoken to him until to-night, but he now 
called me ‘‘ Philly ” with the freedom of ripe 
acquaintance. ‘‘ We’ll get some more logs and 
make a square fence around the fire, close up to 
it — it won’t take but four of ’em — then we’ll 
wigwam the rest of the logs up over the top of 
the pile. You see, when the four we use in ma- 
king the fence burn in two, each end will be 
long enough for a good piece of fuel yet. 

It was plain enough that Charley was camp 
“ commander.” 

After we had dragged several more logs to 
camp, Charley proceeded to place them accord- 
ing to his own idea. First, he took four and laid 
them in a square enclosing the fire, and then 
stood the others on end just outside his fence, and 
leaned them up against the pile in a manner similar 
to that in which an Indian sets up the poles for 
his cone-shaped wigwam. I suppose that is why 
he called it ‘‘ wigwaming.” I think, myself, 
they held the fire better thus by keeping it more 
compact. Besides, the logs were really too long 
to put on the fire conveniently in any other way. 
Meanwhile, Gene had brought more hay and 
had lined our enclosure with it, heaping it up 


83 


THE 


GANG 


against the snow-covered bank of the river. 
Thus, with the robes and blankets that the horses 
did not need, we had constructed a fairly comfort- 
able place, somewhat semicircular in form. An 
upholstered snowbank may not seem an enticing 
habitation, but when we had “ snugged things 
up,” and had some extra fuel ready for use, and 
were gathered into the little sheltered nook sit- 
ting back against the wall of hay, our lot did not 
appear to be so bad after all. 

Could stay here all winter, couldn’t we. Sis ? ” 
said Charley. 

‘‘ A very short winter, Charley ; but we’d get 
hungry after a while.” 

“ Find a deep place in the river and catch some 
fish through the ice.” 

The high bank of the river, and the growth of 
bushes and trees upon it, kept most of the snow 
from us. Nevertheless, some sifted down out of 
the blackness above. 

The scene was picturesque. The red flames 
lighted up our little retreat, shining full upon our 
faces. But the sphere of illumination was small. 
Above and around, and but a few feet from the 
bright fire itself crouched and hovered the thick, 
impenetrable darkness. All the universe, save 
the little space in which we were huddled, seemed 
enveloped in blackness. The wind howled and 
lashed through the trees, tearing and snatching at 
84 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


them, twisting and untwisting, and twisting them 
again. Its call was now a sharp, shrill, piercing 
cry, now a long, low, hoarse, slowly subsiding 
howl; the air seemed full of spirits flying and 
shrieking in utter abandonment of madness. I 
thought, as I looked upon our comfortable group, 
God pity any poor lost traveler to-night ex- 
posed to the terrors abroad, where no friendly 
/roof can shelter I ” 

I sat at one end of the semicircle; next to me 
was Charley; beyond him was his sister, and at 
the other end of the semicircle and opposite me 
was Gene. We sat for a time without saying 
much, watching the fire and listening to the storm. 
Even Charley was still — that is, for a little while ; 
then the spell left him and he soon had us all 
chatting. 

Miss Walton was in good spirits. To see her, 
one would almost be inclined to think it was quite 
the ordinary thing for her to be saved from a 
night of wandering, over trackless fields, in an 
awful blizzard, and to be sheltered in a hastily 
improvised camp. But, after all, to be educated 
and to be cultured in the highest and best sense, 
is to acquire that quality of mind and character 
which enables one to make the best of things as 
one finds them. Is not the real test of life our 
ability to utilize, to the highest degree of advan- 
tage, the material at hand? If we have straw, we 

85 


THE 


GANG 


should use it in our brick-making ; but if we have 
no straw, we can make bricks without it. 

Gene too was adapting himself, both intellec- 
tually and physically, to our new and rather ro- 
mantic conditions, and seemed quite happy. 
Charley divided his time equitably, share and 
share alike, between listening, whistling, and tan- 
talizing his sister and me by drawing over the 
exposed parts of our faces and necks the rough 
edge of the dry prairie grass. Finally, however, 
he lay back on the hay and began to sing, not 
loudly, but in a low, rhythmic, boyish voice. 
Presently his sister joined him. In a few mo- 
ments I chimed in. Charley then shifted to the 
tenor, while I rumbled along on the bass. The 
time passed pleasantly for a while. At length 
Gene said : 

Inasmuch as I am the only good and success- 
ful fireman present, I suggest that the rest of you 
sleep a bit while I keep a blaze on the hearth. 
Miss Walton, you take this robe,’* and he threw 
a cutter robe of buffalo skin at her feet. 

“ Charley,’* she said, ‘‘ are you asleep ? ** 

No answer came. We looked at him, and he 
was sleeping as only a boy can. His sister drew 
up beside him, gathered the buffalo robe about 
him and herself, rested her head back against the 
hay beside his, her face turned toward him, and 
closed her eyes. I persuaded Gene to leave the 
86 





‘are you asleep?’” 

Page 86 


“ ‘ Charley,’ she said. 








A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


fire to me until three o’clock — it was now past one 
— and leaning back against the soft pile he was. 
soon like the others, fast asleep. 

The minutes dragged slowly by, and the cries 
of the wind seemed more fierce and weird than 
ever. I looked at the faces of the sleepers. It is 
in repose, if ever, that we throw off the mask 
which we constantly wear during the hours of 
busy concourse with our fellow-men. Under 
cover of darkness the artful deceiver puts aside 
his mask. Could we see the countenances of 
many of our acquaintances, and perhaps some of 
our friends, as they appear when there is no eye 
to criticize, and darkness envelops them, they 
would perhaps look strange and new to us. 

Miss Walton’s face was an ennobling study. 
While the vivacity of the waking hours was ab- 
sent, the softness and quiet, the purity, the un- 
selfishness, the tender sympathy, the face of a 
generous, humanity-loving woman, were there, 
and even more beautiful in its repose. 

It was already three, the time for my vigil to 
cease ; but Gene was resting so comfortably I had 
no thought of waking him, and sat on, musing out 
the minutes. Suddenly from out of the darkness up 
the river there came a cry, plaintive and unearthly. 
In a moment it was joined by another voice, and 
then still another, all mingled in wild confusion. 
Gene and Miss Walton awakened with a start. 


87 


THE 


GANG 


Charley slowly opened his eyes, looking about 
him. 

“What is it?” quickly asked Miss Walton in 
a startled voice. 

“ O Sis, don’t bother me,” answered Charley 
sleepily. 

“Ain’t you never heard the coyotes before?” 
and he was gone again. 

“ A few wolves or coyotes coming down the 
ice,” said Gene. “ As Charley says, they are 
harmless.” 

The coyotes kept up their howling for some 
time, and from the noise they made I judged, 
after a deliberate and careful estimate, that there 
were from seventeen to nineteen thousand of them. 
When I gave my figures to Gene, he quietly said 
there were two, or possibly three — not more. 

Gene now insisted upon my going to sleep. 

It must have been some hours later, but it was 
still dark, when I awoke sufficiently to become 
aware of the murmur of voices; Gene and Miss 
Walton talking. Then her words came to me. 

“ I trust my father will not continue the efforts 
against you that I hear he has put forth in the 
past, since you have at the risk of your own life 
saved Charley’s and mine.” 

“ My opposition to your father, if it can be 
dignified by so consequential a term as ‘ opposi- 
tion,’ is not personal. Nor is it inspired in any 
88 


A BLIZZARD AND A GIRL 


respect by personal motives, either for my ad- 
vantage or for his injury. I will be frank with 
you, and say that I became convinced that his 
methods, as well as the methods of some of his 
associates in politics, are not for the welfare of the 
people of the county. It is in consideration of this 
that I have chosen my course. As to last night’s 
affair, it is my wish that neither you nor your 
brother, nor any one should speak of it in such a 
manner as would in any respect lead him to feel 
under any personal obligation to me. I am fully 
aware that no one should feel obligated to me, for 
I have done nothing that any one else would not 
have done under the circumstances.” 

It is useless, Mr. Bradgate, for you to de- 
preciate your own conduct. I have heard and 
seen enough of blizzards to know something of the 
extent of the hazard which you voluntarily as- 
sumed. I shall, however, respect your request to 
say nothing, and to permit nothing to be said to 
my father which will in any manner lead him to 
carry any feelings of personal obligation into your 
contest with him. I will concede that a man with 
your — a proper sense of honor — would not wish 
a personal or political enemy to feel himself a 
debtor; but I shall insist upon it as my privilege 
to bear a sense of the debt we owe you, and I am 
sure Charley and mother will share it with me; 
for we cannot help knowing that we owe our lives 

89 


THE 


GANG 


to you. I am aware, however, that what two 
women and a boy may feel or think will not count 
much in a man’s affairs.’’ 

It depends, Miss Walton,” he answered 
slowly, “ upon who the two women and the boy 
are.” 

Now fully awake, and not able to sleep again, 
I opened my eyes. Gene was sitting upright, 
looking steadily across the segment of the circle 
straight into Miss Walton’s face. It was a way he 
had, after having spoken, to look one squarely and 
frankly in the eye. Miss Walton had caught the 
intensity of his thought; not so much, perhaps, 
from his words as from his eyes, and a light 
shade of confusion crossed her face. Then -she 
glanced down at the lock of buffalo fur that she 
was twisting rather nervously with her mittened 
hands. 


90 


CHAPTER Vra 


UNCLE BILLY 

B y daylight it had grown much colder. The 
wind was blowing as fiercely as ever. 
With the logs and brush a good fire had 
been kept, by means of which, together 
with the good shelter and friendly robes, furs, and 
wrappings, we had managed to keep from suffer- 
ing. We were, however, a little chilled and stiff- 
ened. 

Well, what next? ’’ I asked. Shall we stay 
here until the storm stops ? ” 

‘‘ Why not ? ” drawled Charley, who had now 
shaken off some of the drowsiness and numbness. 
This is better’n anybody’s old house.” 

‘‘ For my part,” said Gene, I don’t know 
which way to start to find a near-by farmhouse.” 

‘‘ Oh, shucks! ” said Charley; ‘‘ don’t you know 
that old Uncle Billy Gore’s place is right down the 
river forty or fifty rods? His buildings come 
down within a few rods of the river too. But 
what’s the use of going there? Why not stay 
here ? ” 

We have gotten along very nicely, indeed, 
under the circumstances, yet I think if we can, 

91 


THE 


GANG 


without too much trouble, reach a house, we better 
go there, Charley. You know we haven’t caught 
those fish you told us about, and we have nothing 
to eat,” said Miss Walton. 

“ By jimminy, you’re right. Sis. I’m most 
starved to death, and Mrs. Gore’s a dandy when 
it comes to cookin’. Us boys got rained out 
when we was campin’ here and we went down 
there. Gosh, we was awful hungry ! Bacon an’ po- 
tatoes, an’ coffee, an’ rye bread — I’m goin’ there 
now.” He was already up and on the way. 
‘‘ Come on, Philly ; come on, everybody ! hurry 
up! breakfast is over now. They get up awful 
early — ’way long in the night ’t seems to me — an’ 
eat their breakfast by lamplight. Why didn’t ye 
say somethin’ about it before? But we can get 
her to cook some more bacon, an’ potatoes, an’ 
coffee, and — what else? Oh, yes, rye bread an’ 
sorghum. Come on, everybody. It’s right down 
the river. ’T aint far. I can find it all right.” 

Ordinarily one would not have felt particularly 
enthusiastic over the menu Charley gave, and 
subsequent acquaintance with Mrs. Gore’s cooking 
leads to the belief that Charley’s judgment was 
somewhat warped in her favor by the fact that 
“ Gosh, we was awful hungry ! ” But on this par- 
ticular occasion, being in a similar condition my- 
self, I repeated after him devoutly and fer- 
vently, ‘‘ Bacon, potatoes, coffee, rye bread, and 
92 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


sorghum.” The odor of the bacon and coffee 
was in the air. I did not wait for more urging, 
but sprang up and started after him. 

“ Perhaps,” said Gene, Miss Walton had 
better stay here until we are sure we are going 
to find Gore’s place.” 

“Yes, yes,” said Charley, injured; “you and 
Sis stay here. I know you folks. You want Philly 
an’ me to tramp ’way back here jest to tell you 
that we’ve found the place. An’ then I ’spose 
you’ll want us to go back again an’ see if we can’t 
find it once more. Not much! Philly and I are 
after some of Mrs. Gore’s bacon ” — and he turned 
to go — “ an’ potatoes ” — he was already starting 
out of camp — “ an’ coffee, an’ if you folks want 
any of it you better tug right along close to us. 
There ain’t goin’ to be no cornin’ back for Philly 
an’ me after we get in smellin’ distance of Mrs. 
Gore’s bacon, potatoes, and coffee.” He was now 
clear out of camp. 

“ Are you very sure you can find the place ? ” 
asked Gene, with a smile. 

Charley stopped and turned around, now deeply 
insulted. 

“ Find the place ! Of course I can find the 
place. Ain’t there a cottonwood tree fell right 
across the river down there back of their cattle 
shed, and don’t you think I know a cottonwood 
tree when I see it? ’Specially when I run against 

93 


THE 


GANG 


it? We better give the horses this hay before we 
go, though,” he added, as he turned back and 
grabbed an armful which we had piled between 
the fire and the river bank. He took the horses 
an armful and I followed him with another. . This 
done, Charley started again down stream, all of 
us following in his wake. 

In many places the drifts were several feet in 
depth. Sometimes the snow was level with the 
river banks ; in many places it had been so wind- 
beaten that it was packed hard, and we walked 
over it. There was apparently no decrease in the 
velocity of the wind, and one would have found 
great difficulty in keeping the way, even in the 
daylight, out on the open prairie. 

After passing under a little footbridge, where 
we had found the fuel, and then going perhaps a 
quarter of a mile, following all the time the de- 
vious windings of the river, we came to Charley’s 
cottonwood, which lay stretched across the stream 
as he had said. Here he turned to the right and 
led us up the bank, where, within a few feet 
of the brink, we found a long, low board structure. 
This was evidently the cattle shed of which he 
had told us. We next found a gate through the 
fence and walked into Mr. Gore’s cattleyard. 
The big, cumbersome, corn-fed steers, sheltered 
from the winds by the L-shaped sheds and the 
huge stacks of straw, lifted up their heads in 
94 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


dumb astonishment at our procession as we 
passed through, single file. 

As we went around the end of the shed, on the 
way out of the yard, we suddenly confronted 
Uncle Billy Gore himself, the good-humored, 
well-meaning but thriftless old Irishman who 
owned and operated the farm. 

“ Well, well, well ! Have yez ben down to the 

brook for the takin’ of a ” Then he saw 

Miss Walton as she came around the corner of 
the shed, and checked himself. 

Gene greeted him, introduced the rest of us, and 
briefly explained the situation. 

“Well, well, well! come right inside, quick! 
You surely must be suffering from the severe 
cold.” 

We followed him to the house. It was a big, 
roomy, barnlike structure. He took us in by the 
kitchen door. Mrs. Gore, or “ Margaret,” as 
Uncle Billy called her, was washing the break- 
fast dishes. She left her work and came to greet 
us with the kindest of hospitality. She was as 
strikingly tall and angular as Uncle Billy was 
short and stout. 

After we had removed our wraps and gathered 
about the cook-stove to warm up, Uncle Billy 
said : 

“ And yez have not had a bite to ate, nayther ! 
Well, well, well ! Margaret and the gurrul will be 

95 


THE 


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after getting ye something. Now, if ye’ll plaze 
excuse me, I’ll be about me worruk. We had a 
few wee small piggies down in the pen, an’ I says 
to the boys last night, says I, ‘ We’ll take thim, 
and the mother of thim, an’ put thim in the cellar 
to kape thim warrum,’ says I, an’ I hear her a 
squealin’ for her breakfast this minute, I duz.” 

I heard her too, somewhere beneath the floor. 

“ The boys is busy down cellar with the 
churnin’, so I’ll get the old lady a bit of corn 
meself.” 

He went out. I sat down, wondering what the 
breakfast would be, with pigs and churnin’ both 
in the cellar at the same time. In a little while 
we were told by Mrs. Gore to “ sit by an’ have a 
bite to ate.” 

It was evident that the good woman of the 
house felt no little embarrassment in entertaining 
Miss Walton. She had heard of her recent re- 
turn from abroad, and could not repress the awe 
that she felt for a traveled lady.” But Miss 
Walton’s kindly, genial manner, and the un- 
mistakable sincerity of her appreciation of Mrs. 
Gore’s hospitality, soon put the latter at ease, and 
made her realize, as it did me, that aside from a 
few finishings and polishings, there is but little 
difference between us after all. 

We ate of the inevitable potatoes and bacon, rye 
bread and sorghum. But they were good. I even 
96 

V 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


forgot the pigs and the churning. It was plain, 
from the way Charley ate, that the meal was up 
to his anticipations. 

Our chief anxiety now related to the concern 
of our friends in town as to our whereabouts. 
During breakfast Gene proposed to ride over on 
Pegasus and inform Mrs. Skinner of the safety 
of her daughter and Charley. Just as he was 
planning the trip one of Uncle Billy’s men, a 
Swede, came up into the kitchen from the cellar. 

“Vat for you ride to town?” he interposed. 
“ I goes to town maself on my feets valking to 
buy some tobacco. I tells the lady vere you all 
beens.” 

“ But you were not intending to go to-day,” 
said Gene. 

“ No, I was not antending to go ; I vas going, 
dat vas all.” 

“ But there is no necessity of your going to- 
day, is there? You don’t have to go to-day. You 
can borrow tobacco from some of the other men, 
can’t you, until the weather is better? ” suggested 
Gene, smiling. 

“ Me don’t barrow me tobacco. Me don’t bar- 
row anyting. Me buy me own tobacco.” 

“ I don’t like to ask you to go for us. I can 
just as well ride in as for you to walk.” 

“ You not asked me to go. I go maself, any- 
how, to get me tobacco. It no difference about the 


THE 


GANG 


cold. Von day yust like anodder. I go anyhow. 
You go or not go, yust like you please.” 

‘‘ Swan will be after going when he makes up 
his mind to. It’s not the cold weather that’ll be 
troubling Swan,” said Mrs. Gore. 

‘‘ You better ride my horse,” said Gene. “ The 
walk is too much.” 

“ Me ride no horse. You go horseback and me 
go footback, and me get back farst.” 

Swan always travels afoot,” explained Mrs. 
Gore. 

“ If he is going anyhow, we will send a note by 
him to my mother and any others we wish,” said 
Miss Walton. There will be no necessity for 
Mr. Bradgate’s going too.” 

Accordingly, two or three notes were written 
and given to Swan for delivery, and he was off. 

Our breakfast over. Miss Walton insisted on 
helping Mrs. Gore with the dishes. 

‘‘ Indade, ye shall not. Ye are not accustomed 
to it, so ye are not. Me gurrul Lena, and meself 
it is that’ll do the dishes.” 

But Miss Walton was determined to help. 
Then Gene struck an industrious streak. He 
wanted to help wash dishes too. He had spent 
hours in heated discourse trying to show me how 
unutterably worthless any man is who likes to do 
woman’s work. It was one of his pet theories. 
And now he was going at it himself! What is 
98 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


more, no argument from Mrs. Gore, or mild pro- 
test from Miss Walton, or ironical encourage- 
ment from me could deter him. So Mrs. Gore 
was forced to surrender the dishpan and the dishes 
to Miss Walton and the drying towel to Gene, 
while she and “ me gurrul Lena ” went about 
other duties. The dishwashing department hav- 
ing all the help it needed, Charley and I bundled 
up and plodded off after the horses. 

And we left them alone with the dishes. 

The horses, being fairly well sheltered, were 
not suffering, but we lost no time in returning 
with them to Mr. Gore’s snug stable. 

Uncle Billy, his wife, and our party spent most 
of the day in the big, bare living-room — sitting- 
room and dining-room combined — gathered about 
the fire in the large soft-coal heater. The fire had 
been started there after our arrival. The storm 
kept up with unabated strength. The hired men, 
after they had finished the morning chores and 
the churning, congregated about the kitchen fire. 
The “ gurrul ” Lena, the daughter of the house, 
about a dozen years old, as soon as she was able 
to overcome her diffidence, joined us in the sit- 
ting-room. The twins, Willie and Robbie, some 
six years of age, divided the time about equally 
and noisily between the hired men and us. Little 
Jimmy, the four-year-old, devoted himself ador- 
ingly to Miss Walton, who charmed him by tell- 

99 


THE 


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ing him stories. Gene helped amuse Jimmy too. 
Miss Lena occupied herself for a while in sheepish 
sidelong glances at us, with the particular excep- 
tion of Charley. Later on, however, by some un- 
accountable means, she became aware of his ex- 
istence, and sidling over in his direction she asked 
him, with an air of utter indifference, if he 
played dominoes. Charley replied, “You bet!” 
Soon they were at the game in blissful companion- 
ship. 

The day brought little change in the weather, 
except that it was constantly growing colder. 
Swan returned at about five o’clock with a satis- 
factory report of his mission. 

“ Mr. Skinner purty glad to know you vas 
here,” he said to Miss Walton. “ He tank you 
stayed out to Mr. Williams’, but they don’t know, 
and they vas getting ready to hunt you up for 
sure.” After supper one of the men went with a 
lantern to look at the thermometer which hung 
outside. He reported the temperature twenty- 
two below zero. 

Most of the family and hired men retired early, 
leaving Uncle Billy and one of his men, Mike, and 
Charley, Gene, and me still hovering about the 
sitting-room fire. Charley had already fallen 
asleep. 

Uncle Billy talked on, now and then poking in- 
effectively at the fire. His rich, plaintive voice 

100 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


was agreeable to listen to, and it was proof of his 
emotional nature. Tears came and went easily. 
He could both swear and pray fervidly. In the 
vicinity of his place there was a settlement of 
Irish Methodists — and most excellent people they 
were. They had erected a neat little church build- 
ing in the center of the township, in which most of 
them lived, a little less than a mile above Uncle 
Billy’s, on the upland away from the river. It 
was his special and personal pride. After it was 
built he discovered that from his front porch he 
could not see all of the building to the level of 
the ground on account of an elevated point of 
land between it and his house. So, on a Monday 
morning, bright and early, he put all of his men 
at work cutting a channel through this elevation 
wide enough to enable him from his chair on the 
front porch to obtain a full view of the beloved 
little house of worship, both frame and founda- 
tion. 

His zeal was not less manifest when in attend- 
ance upon religious services. He always occupied 
a certain seat in the church, the second from the 
front. His prayers and method of making them 
were a study. It was well known by the congre- 
gation some time prior, when Uncle Billy was 
about to lead in that particular phase of the devo- 
tional exercises. He had to get everything ready. 
The first thing that he did was to select a spot 

tot 


THE 


GANG 


Upon the floor, in front of his seat, and carefully 
and with deliberate movement, spread over it a 
large red handkerchief. Next, he would push his 
Bible and hymn books all to one end of the pew. 
Then he would rise to his feet, slowly and labo- 
riously face about, edge over sidewise until he 
was standing directly over the red handkerchief, 
when, with cumbersome, heavy movement, he 
would gradually lower his fat round body until 
both knees were planted squarely on the handker- 
chief. With both hands clasping the back of the 
pew before him, and with head upright, he would 
begin. The start was rather slow, and compara- 
tively unruffled by excitement, but as he proceeded 
he grew in fervor and in rapidity of speech. His 
voice rose in pitch as the emotion intensified, and 
the speed accelerated. He went on still faster and 
still louder, and unintelligible to human ear, until 
a startling climax seemed inevitable. But when 
the noisy flood of words was at its highest point 
the voice suddenly began to sober down, and soon 
fell into a sort of plaintive wail, which became 
more and more plaintive and pathetic, until the 
old man was in tears and was breaking up his 
quaintly constructed Irish-American sentences 
with his sobs. This stage of the prayer usually 
immediately preceded the close. It always fin- 
ished in a long and solemn “ Amen,” with a much- 
prolonged '' A.” This pronounced, he would rise 
102 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


from his knees, with the same slow and ponder- 
ous movement as that with which he had settled 
down, then stoop over with great difficulty and' 
much heavy breathing and pick up the red hand- 
kerchief, mop his forehead with it, turn around 
and resume his seat ; and Uncle Billy’s prayer was 
over. 

He attended to his farm as ineffectively as he 
poked the fire. The land, the buildings, and the 
stock, in fact all that Uncle Billy had, had been 
given him by a wealthy brother. With his shift- 
less, haphazard methods of farming, unassisted, 
he never could have accumulated anything. 

This brother lived in a distant State. He 
visited Uncle Billy annually. The coming of 
me brother ” to the Gore home was looked upon 
with much pleasurable anticipation by Uncle Billy 
and his good wife. While it was rumored that 
there were complaints sometimes made on the part 
of this brother about Uncle Billy’s poor manage- 
ment, he never went away without leaving behind 
him a check for a good substantial sum, to keep 
things going until he should come again. 

Uncle Billy kept about him a large number of 
“ hired men ” — several more than he needed had 
they been good for anything. These men usually, 
studiously, and systematically imposed on his good 
nature and incompetency by doing as little as 
possible, and that as poorly as possible, and, above 

103 


THE 


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all, as easily as possible. Meantime they drew 
full pay and ate at regular times. 

It was rumored that he was more familiar with 
the bottle than the practices of his church per- 
mitted. His brothers in the church knew of his 
faults, but they knew his kindness and generosity 
too, and we will leave it to others to say whether 
they did right or wrong in letting him stay in- 
side the fold. He would not visit the saloons, at 
least publicly, but by some means or other he kept 
himself pretty well supplied with liquor. It was 
whispered that he had been known to have with 
him a bottle of his favorite beverage even on 
Sundays at church, and on his way home to share 
its contents with some trustworthy sinner who 
happened to be walking with him. He must have 
believed us reliable, for when all was quiet up- 
stairs Uncle Billy, after casting divers furtive 
and significant glances about, surreptitiously took 
from the inside pocket of his coat a pint flask 
nearly full of whisky. 

“ A bit of medicine, gentlemen ; a mere bit 
of medicine I brought home yesterday for the 
babies.” 

He held it before him apparently waiting for 
some one to speak. Mike’s face suddenly assumed 
a look of indifference. His disinterestedness was 
so pronounced that it seemed strained. He had 
taken an active part in the conversation up to this 
104 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


moment, but now he suddenly lapsed into solemn 
silence. Since neither Gene nor I made any com- 
ment, and Mike sat staring vacantly at nothing. 
Uncle Billy slowly, with a little reluctance, put 
the bottle back into his pocket. He revived the 
conversation, and kept it up even more lively than 
before, and made no reference to going to bed. 
Several times he nervously touched the pocket of 
his coat where the bottle was. Presently he took 
it out again, and turning to Mike said, “ Do ye 
suppose, Michael, that the babies will need all of 
it?’’ 

And how much is there of it. Uncle Billy? ” 

‘‘ A pint, Michael ; a full pint, saving the little 
that I — it is not quite, but nearly full.” 

While I am not a very good judge of medi- 
cine, it’s me honest opinion the babies should not 
have that much.” 

It’s not good for them to have too much medi- 
cine, do ye think, Mr. Blair ? ” said Uncle Billy, 
turning to me. 

I answered that it was probably not best to 
overdose them, in which opinion Mike solemnly 
and wisely concurred. 

Well, well, well ! ” said Uncle Billy, that 
being the case, ye might taste a drap of it, gen- 
tlemen, before yez go to bed. It is surely too 
much for the babies.” 

Gene and I declined. 


105 


THE 


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Michael, will ye take a bit of it if the gentle- 
men will not? ” 

Mike “ took a bit ” and Uncle Billy “ took a 
bit,” and the bottle went back into his pocket, and 
the conversation went on. 

Another lapse of time and again the bottle 
came out. Uncle Billy held it up to the light 
to see how much was left. ‘‘ And do yez think, 
Michael, the babies will need that much? ” 

Mike took it and held it up, and looked at it 
carefully and judicially. Then he remarked, 
“ Indade, Uncle Billy, I would not dare to give 
it all to ’em; sure I would not.” 

Then take a sip, Michael.” 

Michael took a sip ” and Uncle Billy “ took 
a sip,” and the bottle went back into the pocket, 
and the conversation went on. 

Another lapse of time and the bottle came out 
once more. “ Sure, and we’ll save enough for 
the babies, Michael.” 

Indade, we will,” responded Michael ; and 
they both ‘‘ saved a little for the babies.” 

The next time the bottle was brought forth 
Uncle Billy said, “ And it was only for the small 
twins and for the wee Jimmy I got it. Surely 
they should not use so much.” 

‘‘ No, no,” solemnly protested Mike; yez must 
be very careful, indade, how ye give the small 
twins and the little shaver too much of it, so ye 
106 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


must. They can’t stand it, and it’s too much 
medicine ye’ll be after givin’ them. They’re 
bright lads and ye mustn’t overdo them with 
kindness.” 

Michael,” responded Uncle Billy, “ I think 
you’re right. And it’s very good ye are, Michael, 
to speak so well of me little ones.” And they 
both drank again. 

There was not much left for the babies now. 
They talked more glibly than before. By and by 
Uncle Billy tentatively observed: 

Michael, we might as well finish the bottle, 
for don’t ye remember — I don’t see how I forgot 
it — I got some for the babies last week, and there’s 
enough in the pantry for them.” 

“ And sure ye did,” responded Michael, and 
they finished the bottle that had been so inadvert- 
ently bought for the babies. 

When we awoke next morning it was broad 
daylight, and our fireless chamber was pinching, 
biting cold. Looking through the window, after 
having scraped a spot of the thick coating of frost 
away, we saw what looked like a dazzling, perfect, 
sunny day. Not a breath of air was stirring. 
The storm had spent its energy and fallen asleep 
from exhaustion. But it had left, in a thousand 
grotesque heaps of snow, white monuments to its 
fury, which sparkled and glistened in the clear 

107 


THE 


G A N G 


sunlight. On going downstairs we found the men 
who had come in from the outside hovering close 
to the stove. One of them, much to the amuse- 
ment of the rest, was thawing his frozen nose by 
holding against it a handful of snow. They said 
the thermometer at daylight stood at thirty-six 
below zero. 

These storms begin with the weather compara- 
tively warm, the wind rising and maintaining a 
terrific force for two or three days, the thermome- 
ter falling, the lowest point of the temperature 
being reached with the going down of the wind. 
It is the gradually declining temperature that 
greatly enhances the danger to one lost in the 
blizzard. The increasing cold seizes the weary- 
ing one in its constantly tightening grasp. 

After breakfast Miss Walton and Charley stood 
by the window looking out through a crevice in 
the frost-coating at the sun-illumined track of the 
tempest. The very sunlight seemed to mock at the 
rest of nature, frozen stiff, cold, and dead. I over- 
heard Miss Walton say to her brother, a tear glis- 
tening on her cheek and an arm thrown affection- 
ately over his shoulder : 

‘‘ Where would we have been now, Charley, but 
for what seems almost a miracle? Oh, I hope 
no one else has been in such peril and so near 
death as we.” 

It was decided that several of the men should 


108 


UNCLE 


BILLY 


take a team and a pair of “ bobsleds,” with 
shovels enough for all, and start for town. 
Bradgate, Charley, and I went with them. 

The team with the bobsleds led, Pegasus and 
Pete hitched to our cutter following. Charley’s 
team was left at Mr. Gore’s. Miss Walton 
remained, Charley to return for her with 
Uncle Billy’s men after the roads were broken 
through. Our way was somewhat difficult, but 
we reached home without mishap. Later reports 
came in of three or four deaths in the storm by 
freezing. Two of them occurred in the Big 
Pasture. The victims were found not a half- 
mile from our camp. 

That night, as we sat by the comfortable fire 
in our room discussing the recent experiences, I 
told Gene that I had unavoidably overheard his 
remark to Miss Walton at the camp about not 
wanting his part in the affair to have any bear- 
ing upon his controversy with her stepfather. 
I asked him if he intended to continue the fight, 
no matter what attitude Skinner might now as- 
sume. 

‘‘ I make the same request of you, Phil, that 
I did of her, and I have full confidence in both of 
you.’' He looked at me steadily and repeated, 
“ In both of you.” 

I knew that I had long been his trusted friend. 
He had coupled her name with mine. I took his 

109 


THE 


GANG 


look and his words to be a confession. We sat 
gazing into each other’s eyes for a time — long 
enough for him to tell me all, without words, and 
long enough for me to tell him that I understood. 

“ Well,” I at length spoke out, this certainly 
will put an end to Bradgate versus Skinner, and 
Skinner versus Bradgate.” 

“ Phil,” he answered, his voice husky, “ I con- 
fess to you that I have been thinking of that. But 
I have made up my mind that Norman Skinner in 
power is just as much of a curse upon this com- 
munity as he was before. I have made up my 
mind that Norman Skinner is still Norman Skin- 
ner; and yet — yet, Phil — Miss Walton is still Miss 
Walton.” 

It is not easy for logic to arrive at its true des- 
tination when it must travel through the heart on 
the way. 


110 


CHAPTER IX 

BEFORE THE LAW 

I T was a bright, cold January morning. The 
courtroom was full but the people still came, 
noisily stamping the snow from their feet as 
they climbed the stairs from the hall below, 
and pushed in through the wide double door, a 
hardy, red-faced, thick-capped, fur-coated, and 
big-mittened crowd. The trial of Steven Russell 
was about to begin. He sat with his father and 
Gene at the trial table, pale and thin, waiting for 
the ordeal. Since his arrest he had remained on 
the farm, where the three carried the burden to- 
gether, or the four, rather, for little Mattie, 
though she could not understand, in her loving, 
baby way, did what she could. 

As a lawyer, Gene was bound to say that, as 
the case stood, Steve would certainly be found 
guilty. There might be some doubt whether the 
crime charged, under the statutes of the State, 
constituted forgery, or obtaining money by false 
pretenses, but neither An nor Steve would permit 
Gene to raise the question. They wanted the 
case settled on its merits. Nor would they enter- 
tain the thought of a plea of guilty. Among the 

111 


THE 


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town and country folks no one now intimated the 
possibility of Steve’s innocence, nor would put 
any faith in his story of the letter that he claimed 
to have received from Jones; and even Gene had 
abandoned his last lingering hope of its being 
produced. Gene suffered much criticism from 
Black in the “ Graphic,” and from the people 
generally, for standing by his client. 

Bud McGuire had said one day in the street: 
“ It’s very suspicious that that young lawyer 
should hang on to ’em so. It don’t look well for 
him, to say the least. Just see what the 
“ Graphic ” says of him ! I tell you, where there’s 
so much smoke, there’s bound to be some fire! 
He kind o’ fooled us with his wise, solemn looks 
for a while, but we’ll look out for him from now 
on. ’T ain’t likely he’ll last long after this, any- 
how. If he knows anything, he’s a rascal to stand 
by the other rascal ; and if he ain’t a rascal, he’s a 
fool.” So the talk ran on. 

Bud’s occupation was to sit around in front of 
Van Zandt’s saloon, whittle, spit tobacco juice, 
and create sentiment under Skinner’s direction. 
But the crowd looked at him approvingly, and 
somebody said, “ Bud don’t amount to much, 
but he hits it off right sometimes.” 

“ No,” Bud continued, that man Bradgate 
won’t last no longer’n a snowball in the hot place. 
Skinner’s down on ’im, Plumpy’s down on ’im, 
112 


BEFORE THE LAW 


and Black’s down on ’im, and when you’ve said 
that in Scudderville, it’s just the same as to say 
that everybody’s down on ’im.” 

The trial promised to be a repetition of the 
preliminary hearing before the justice, and with 
the same conclusion on the part of the jury as 
had been reached by his honor ” in the lower 
court. 

The breakfast at the Russells’, the day the trial 
was to commence, was a gloomy one. After it was 
through, and father and son were ready to 
start. An lingered a moment behind his son to 
say the last word to his wife, who would not go 
with them, for fear people would think she was 
trying to stir up sympathy. He looked down into 
her kind old face. 

Well, it’s time we’re going, Pop,” he said 
huskily, while the tears rolled down the cheeks of 
both of them. 

“ Yes, An,” she answered, you must go.” 
And she laid a hand upon each of his shoulders 
as tenderly and lovingly as in the years gone by 
when love and life to them were young. 

The old man avoided her eyes for a moment, 
struggling to conceal his emotion, but shortly 
succumbing, laid his head on her shoulder and 
wept. After a few minutes the rush of his grief 
was over and he straightened up. Again she 
looked him squarely in the eyes, her hands still 

113 


H 


THE 


GANG 


resting on his shoulders. Presently she said, 
slowly and firmly, “ Andrew, remember, and do 
not for one moment forget that ' they that trust 
in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which can- 
not be removed but abideth forever.’ ” 

Then she went back to her daily round of toil, 
and they to meet the law. 

The judge had told the latest legal joke from 
over in Coon County to the members of the bar, 
mounted the platform, and seated himself behind 
the pulpitlike wooden structure that was the 
material exemplification of Scudder County’s bar 
of justice, and ordered the sheriff to open 
court. Quiet was established, and the morning 
preliminaries were soon over. 

‘‘ The next cause for trial,” said the court, “ is 
the State against Steven Russell. Elmer E. 
Briggs, county attorney, appearing for the State, 
and Eugene Bradgate for the defendant. Are you 
ready for trial, gentlemen ? ” 

‘‘ The State is ready,” responded Briggs, who 
was seated at the trial table opposite Gene. 

“ The defense is ready,” said Gene quietly. 

‘‘ You may call the jury, Mr. Clerk,” said the 
court. 

The clerk began drawing the names, names 
from across the sea — many of them — calling 
each in a loud voice. The owner would respond 
“ here,” and rise from the crowd, forge his way 

il4 


BEFORE THE LAW 


to the front, and take his seat on one of the chairs 
provided for the jury, which were arranged in 
two rows on the judge’s left. 

After twelve had been called, the clerk said : 

“ Arise and be sworn, gentlemen.” All stand- 
ing and lifting their hands, most of them toil- 
stained and calloused, with earnest, serious faces, 
they took the oath and again sat down. Then 
the court said: 

“ Mr. Briggs may examine the jury for cause 
on the part of the State.” 

Mr. Briggs, overflowing with confidence that 
any jury would convict Steve, did not question 
the jurors singly, but with a flourish of showy 
indifference, said to them: 

‘‘ If any of you gentlemen know of any reason 
why you cannot sit upon this jury, hear the evi- 
dence which shall be offered in this cause, and the 
instructions upon the law to be given you by his 
honor, the court, and a true verdict render there- 
in, I will ask you to so indicate it now.” 

One after another of the twelve men shook 
their heads. 

“ The State accepts the jury,” said Mr. Briggs, 
and sat down. 

Mr. Bradgate, you may examine for cause,” 
said the court. 

Gene found several who admitted having 
formed -and expressed an opinion as to the guilt 

115 


THE 


GANG 


or innocence of the defendant. These he “ chal- 
lenged,” and the State not resisting, their places 
were filled by others. This done, the twelve ac- 
cepted jurors were again sworn. 

Throughout the proceedings Steve's pinched 
white face showed his terrible anxiety. An sat 
rigid and proud, almost defiant. 

The trial opened with the statement of the case, 
first by Briggs and then by Gene. Then began the 
taking of testimony. 

The evidence of the State was the same as that 
given before the justice. 

After the State had concluded its evidence, 
Steve took the stand in his own defense. He was 
his only witness. He denied all the acts of crimi- 
nality. He told again of the letter he claimed to 
have received from Mr. Jones. After stating that 
it was lost, and that although he had diligently 
sought for it he could not find it, he was permitted, 
under the rules of evidence, to tell its contents, 
which he did precisely as before. After complet- 
ing his testimony in chief, Mr. Briggs waived 
cross-examination, and Gene rested his case. 

Jones again took the stand in rebuttal, for the 
purpose of denying the letter, and reiterated his 
statement made at the preliminary examination : 

‘‘ No, your honor,” he repeated, “ I never wrote 
any such letter to this young man. I wish, oh, 
how I wish his conduct had been such that I could 


116 


BEFORE THE LAW 


have so written him! But the checks were not 
right, and the bank book was not right, and 
Steve had done wrong, and T could not tell 
him otherwise than I did. No one can regret 
more than I do this unfortunate affair, and had I 
been able to satisfy my conscience and say nothing 
further about it, I would gladly have done so ; but, 
your honor, I could not do it. As a citizen, I could 
not do it. No one knows how badly I feel. I had 
trusted the boy and tried to help him.” 

While much of the matter thrown in by Jones 
was utterly immaterial and irrelevant to the issue. 
Gene did not urge objections. To do so would 
do no good, and might intensify prejudices. It 
mattered little what he did. Steve was in all 
minds a convicted man. 

During the last examination of Jones, Briggs 
was still sitting at the trial table opposite Gene. 
While questioning Jones, Briggs was idly and ab- 
sent-mindedly turning the leaves of one of the 
books of account of the grain company. From 
the position in which Steve sat, he could see di- 
rectly into the open book. 

No such letter was ever written,” concluded 
Mr. Jones solemnly; ‘‘no such letter was ever 
written.” 

Just at that moment there was a sudden outcry 
from Steve. He sprang to his feet, and looked 
fixedly and excitedly at the book in Briggs’ hands. 

117 


THE 


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All eyes were riveted upon him. We thought the 
boy had gone mad. He stood still only an instant, 
and then placing one hand on the table he jumped 
upon it, and with the other hand reached over and 
snatched the book from Briggs. The sheriff 
stepped up to restrain him. Steve, on the table, 
resting upon one knee and one foot, was rapidly 
turning the leaves of the book. 

Oh, let me alone,” he said to the sheriff, with 
an impatient gesture, “ let me alone ! I’ve found 
it ! I know it is there ; I saw it, I saw it ! ” and he 
fumbled on excitedly. 

Jones looked a trifle pale. Before the sheriff 
had time to proceed further, Steve jerked a 
sheet of paper from between the leaves of the 
book. Holding it aloft, his face radiant, he 
fairly shouted : 

‘‘ There’s the letter, there it is ! ” 

Then recovering himself, he stepped back to 
the floor, handed the letter to Gene, and sat down 
by him, burying his face in his hands. 

Gene hastily scanned the sheet, as did An ; and 
a moment after. Gene, turning to Mr. Briggs, 
said calmly: 

“ Have you completed your direct examina- 
tion, Mr. Briggs?” 

“ I have finished,” he responded. You may 
cross-examine.” 

Mr. Jones,” said Gene, piercing the old man 


118 





There’s the letter, 


there it is!”’ 


Page ii8 





BEFORE THE LAW 


through with the flinty look of his steel-gray 
eyes, ‘‘ I now hand you a letter which I will have 
identified as ‘ Exhibit number one,’ being a letter 
dated October 9, 18 — , addressed to Steven Rus- 
sell, Clear Creek, and signed by Jones Brothers, 
per W. S. Jones. I will now ask you if that letter 
is in your handwriting?” 

Jones took the letter, his hands trembling vio- 
lently. As he looked down at the sheet, his pal- 
lor grew deeper and deeper. For some time he 
sat silent and motionless, save that his hands 
trembled. 

Court, jury, and spectators knew that a crisis 
had come, and were watching him with breathless 
expectancy. 

Briggs, by his flushed face, exhibited chagrin 
that no one can appreciate who has never con- 
fronted unexpectedly, as a lawyer at the trial 
table, an insurmountable obstacle. A beaten 
lawyer is the most crestfallen, worst-looking 
beaten man on earth. 

Gene was standing directly in front of Mr. 
Jones, still fixing him with his relentless eye. He 
was motionless as the sphinx, for which we had 
named him at college. 

Finally Mr. Jones stammered weakly: 

“ It looks like my letter — ^but — I — had — for- 
gotten.” 

We all saw the truth, but it was so sudden and 

119 


THE 


GANG 


strange that we could not fully believe it until 
the letter was read. 

‘‘ You wrote that letter, did you, and sent it to 
Steven Russell at Clear Creek ? ” 

I — think — now — that — may — be — I — did,” 
stammered Jones, the cold sweat standing out on 
his face. 

I now offer and read in evidence, as part of 
the cross-examination of W. S. Jones, and with 
the permission of the court, as part of the defend- 
ant’s main case, the following letter ” : 

Gene then read : 

“ SCUDDERVILLE, , Octobcr Q, l8 — . 

“ Steven Russell, Clear Creek, . 

“Sir: Your checks for September and bank book, 
and conclusion of business with the Clear Creek Sav- 
ings Bank, delivered to me by you some days ago, have 
been checked over, and I find them correct. The over- 
draft of four hundred and thirty dollars, as shown by 
the bank book, seems to be correct, which amount we 
handed you a few days since, and which you have un- 
doubtedly deposited to meet the overdraft. 

“Jones Brothers, per W. S. Jones.” 

Every one listened breathlessly to the reading 
of this letter. Upon its conclusion all sat in si- 
lence for a moment, and then a noisy bustle of ex- 
citement went around the room. 

“ Let us have quiet in the courtroom ! ” roared 


120 


BEFORE THE LAW 


the judge. In the West the courts do not always 
delegate to the sheriff all the duties with reference 
to keeping order. 

Jones’ face and manner were even more signifi- 
cant to the crowd than the letter itself. Gene, 
pursuing his examination, said : 

In this case you have testified that Steven 
Russell, in your opinion, forged that check, ma- 
king the alteration in it and the alteration in the 
bank book. Without asking you, sir, to incrimi- 
nate yourself, I will ask you what your opinion 
now is as to whether the alteration in the check 
and in the book is in the handwriting of Steven 
Russell.” 

The old man looked up beseechingly at Gene 
for a moment without answering. As Gene had 
framed the question, he probably took it that the 
only chance to save himself from criminal prose- 
cution was to make a clean breast of the whole 
thing before the trial closed. The letter be- 
ing found in one of his own Scudderville books 
of account eliminated all possibility of Steve’s hav- 
ing forged it. It was serving its purpose better 
than if Steve had produced it from the Clear 
Creek files. Then it might have been alleged that 
he had fabricated it. Yet the old man hesitated. 
At last he murmured: 

‘‘ I may — ^be — mistaken — perhaps.” 

Gene pressed the question home. 


121 


THE 


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Mr. Jones, did, or did not, Steven Russell 
alter the check or the bank book figures ? ” 

“ I — don’t — think — he — did.” 

“ Mr. Jones, did you ever say anything to 
Steven Russell about this forged check until after 
the arrest? ” 

'' I — think — may — be — I — did — not.” 

Did Steven Russell ever say to you that he 
had done any wrong with reference to this or to 
any other check ? ” 

'' Mr. — Bradgate, I don’t know that he did ; I 
have made a little mistake in this matter, but I 
did not mean anything by it. We will make it 
all right.” 

Did you ever give Steven Russell any more 
money than was necessary to meet the overdraft 
at the Clear Creek Savings Bank? ” 

“ No, I guess not.” 

“ Has Steven Russell now, to your knowledge, 
eighty-one dollars that belongs to you, or to 
Jones Brothers, or to either of you; or has he 
any other sum of your money, or has he at any 
time withheld any money from you, or any 
money of the members of the firm of Jones 
Brothers? ” 

“ I don’t believe he has. Oh, no, Mr. Brad- 
gate; don’t be hard on a poor old man like 
me. I may have forgotten some things; but if I 
have, I don’t want to hurt the boy. Let the boy 

122 


BEFORE THE LAW 


go, your honor, and gentlemen of the jury; let the 
boy go. Don’t be hard on an old man ; you know 
we don’t remember so well when we get old.” 

Mr. Jones, then the story which you have told 
heretofore, wherein you said Steven Russell had 
in effect obtained by forgery from you eighty-one 
dollars, or any other sum, was untrue, was it 
not? ” 

“ I guess I was mistaken. I don’t think Steven 
did anything wrong. Let him go.” 

Here the examination ended. Steve’s exonera- 
tion was complete. Briggs said nothing. Jones, 
then dismissed feebly arose, staggered down the 
steps, and crept away. 

^‘Any further evidence?” inquired the court. 

Briggs merely shook his head, while Gene an- 
swered : 

The defendant has no more testimony, your 
honor. The defendant rests.” 

Again a flurry of excitement ran through the 
audience, and an outburst was repressed only by 
the court’s stern demand for silence. 

‘‘ The State may make its opening argument 
to the jury,” said the court. 

Mr. Briggs, easy as his case had appeared to 
him in the beginning, realized now that to at- 
tempt to sustain it would not only be useless, but 
would subject him to personal criticism, so he de- 
clined with the remark: 


123 


THE 


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'' Your honor, the State waives its opening ar- 
gument/’ 

Then the court, turning to Gene, asked : 

Does the defendant wish to argue the case to 
the jury? ” 

Gene arose with quiet dignity, behind which I 
could see the pent-up nervousness of weeks. Be- 
fore he uttered a word, the intensity of his manner 
completely subdued to silence the whole house. 
There was the tension of anxiety in his earnest 
voice, as he said : 

‘‘ May it please the court and gentlemen,” turn- 
ing to the jury, “ you have seen and you have 
heard it all. I leave it with you.” Then he sat 
down. No argument under the circumstances 
could have been more forceful. 

The court’s instructions to the jury were brief. 
These were given with considerable difficulty, 
owing to the restlessness of the audience, chafing 
under the formalities of the law. Notwithstand- 
ing the fact that Steve’s innocence was now com- 
pletely established, a verdict must be had from the 
jury, inasmuch as the county attorney did not dis- 
miss the case. On their way out to the adjoining 
room for their deliberations, one of the jurors said 
loudly enough to be heard throughout the court- 
room : 

Might as well settle it here. What’s the use 
of going there ? ” 

124 


BEFORE THE LAW 


“ Keep still ! ” sharply said the bailiff in charge. 

The bailiff had hardly locked the door of the 
juryroom when a loud rap was heard from with- 
in. Unlocking it, the bailiff immediately reported 
to the court that they had arrived at a verdict. So 
they filed again to their seats, and the verdict was 
given to the judge, who opened it. 

“ Not guilty,” he read. 

The court made some further remarks to the 
jury, but they were drowned in the shout which 
went up from the spectators. There was no re- 
straining them now. They yelled and stamped 
and whistled and threw up their hats. They 
surged in through the gateway within the rail- 
ing dividing the bar from the spectators’ benches. 
In spite of court, bailiffs, and sheriff, they 
seized both Gene and Steve and, lifting them upon 
their shoulders, marched shouting and cheering 
out of the courtroom, down the stairs, and out 
into the frosty air, across the courtyard, and on to 
the broad walk in front of the line of stores. 
Then, still shouting and cheering, they tramped, 
a noisy and motley procession, entirely around 
the square, back to the courtyard again, only 
setting down their human burdens when the 
courthouse steps were reached. 

‘‘ You can go back, now,” one of them said to 
Gene ; ‘‘ maybe you’ve got other things to ’tend 
to upstairs. And Steve, old boy, go right home 

125 


THE 


GANG 


and tell your good old mother/' And all crowded 
around to shake hands with them. 

The news of the vindication of Steve, and the 
manner of it, spread quickly through the town. 
On every hand were heard warm words of com- 
mendation of both Steve and Gene. An hour be- 
fore there was nothing but bitter condemnation. 
The trial had consumed less than a day, having 
begun at nine in the morning, and closed before 
four in the afternoon; and the public had en- 
tirely changed its mind. 


126 


CHAPTER X 


A MOB 

J UST as I expected. That young Russell ain’t 
no rascal. Anybody could see that. Every- 
body knows that man Bradgate well enough 
to know that he ain’t going to stand by a 
fellow that he ain’t got a pretty good show of win- 
ning out with. Bradgate’s no fool, I tell you. As 
for the old hypocrite of a Jones, I’ve often won- 
dered why they didn’t hang ’im long ago.” 

This was the emphatic enunciation of John 
Stuart, a drayman who had come out of the court- 
yard with the crowd that had just released Gene 
and Steve. 

‘‘ What’s the matter with hangin’ the squint- 
eyed old rascal now, jest to give him a scare, ye 
know ? ” said Ike Steel. Ike was an impulsive fel- 
low, a cattle and hog dealer, who began his train- 
ing in the cattle business as a cowboy. 

That’s the talk!” shouted Joe Chandler, a 
real-estate hustler,” a little stretchin’ll do the 
old cuss good.” 

Where is he ? ” shouted somebody else. 

‘‘ There he goes out of the courtyard toward 
his house ! excitedly cried Claude Reed, a lad 

127 


THE 


GANG 


of fifteen or sixteen years, the “ swipe ” at one 
of the livery stables. 

Looking in the direction the boy pointed, we 
saw Jones stealing out of the gate at the farther 
corner of the courtyard. 

‘‘ Get a rope! ” somebody shouted, and the cry 
was taken up by half a dozen voices. 

“ Get the man I ” said somebody else. 

There was a rush, some charging into a near-by 
hardware store. The loose end of a rope wound 
on a reel was snatched up, and without obtain- 
ing or asking the proprietor’s permission, thirty 
or forty feet of it were quickly spun off and cut. 
Then all charged out again. 

In the meantime, the rest of the crowd started 
to get the man.” Of this faction, Ike Steel was 
the leader. I was standing in front of the hard- 
ware store where the crowd was getting the rope, 
when Ike and his partners set off across the street 
in pursuit of Jones. Just before reaching him, 
Ike shouted: 

“ Hold on, there, you bow-legged old scoun- 
drel! We want you! ” 

Fearing that they , would go farther than a 

scare,” and that serious harm might come to 
Jones, I darted into the courtroom for the sheriff. 
Court had adjourned, and only the bailiff and one 
or two loiterers were left. I notified the bailiff, 
who started off on a run to the sheriff’s house. 


128 


A 


M 


O 


B 


Not knowing where next to go for help, I de- 
cided to follow the crowd and see what could be 
done toward preventing a tragedy, should affairs 
take a serious turn. So I hurried downstairs 
after the bailiff. Already the mob was surging 
through the middle of the snow-covered street 
and down toward the river bridge. Overtaking 
them, I edged my way to the center of attraction. 
Jones was in the grip of Ike Steel, begging and 
pleading, frightened nearly out of his senses, as 
he was pushed and jerked along. 

Don't — don’t harm an old man,” he whim- 
pered ; “ I didn’t mean to harm Steve ; I didn’t 
know — I didn’t mean — I am an old man, gentle- 
men. No, Mr. Steel, you won’t let them harm an 
old man.” 

Reaching the bridge, all stopped, and things 
began to look ominous. 

“ You won’t harm an old man, will you, Mr. 
Steel?” the terrified Jones continued to plead. 

‘‘ You’re pretty old,” said Steel. 

“ Yes, yes, Mr. Steel,” he eagerly responded, 
apparently thinking that Steel was relenting. 
“ Yes, Mr. Steel, I always knew that you were 
kind-hearted. Yes, I am a poor old man.” 

‘‘ You ain’t got but a few more years to live, 
have you ? ” 

“ Only a little time, Mr. Steel ; oh, I thank you 
so much ! ” 


129 


THE 


GANG 


** And you are a good Christian, and will be 
ready, I s’pose, when the time conies? ” 

“Yes, gentlemen — yes, Mr. Steel; I have al- 
ways tried to do right, and — oh, I thank you so 
much ! ” 

“ Well,” said Steel, “ since you’re such an old, 
old man, and ain’t got long to live anyhow, and 
since you’re such a good Christian, we might as 
well finish it up now and have it over with. 
We’ll give ye just a little push, like, into glory, 
ye know. Won’t that be nice? ” 

The bridge, in the middle of which Jones and 
his self-appointed executioners stood, stretched 
over the river probably thirty feet from the ice 
below. 

They placed the noose about the neck of the 
old man, now crying piteously. I was thoroughly 
scared. Unless somebody interposed soon, it 
looked as though relief would come too late. In 
desperation, but with an assumed calmness, I 
pushed up to Steel and, laying my hand on his 
shoulder, said as quietly as I could : 

“Look out! You don’t mean it,, Mr. Steel. 
You don’t want to do this. Don’t go too far.” 

“ Stand from under. Tenderfoot,” he replied, 
without even stopping in his work; and then he 
added, “ This ain’t no Madison Square prome- 
nade.” 

“ Go home to mamma,” advised Claude Reed, 


130 


A 


M 


O 


B 


the livery-stable lad, who was in the thickest of 
things. 

The noose was now tightening on Jones’ 
neck, and they were tying the other end of the 
rope about the beam of the bridge, as though 
making ready to push him off. I was sure the 
scare would end in a tragedy. I could do noth- 
ing more but attempt to take him from Steel by 
force. I threw off my overcoat to be the better 
prepared for the struggle. My thought was that 
I might delay matters until the sheriff could reach 
us with assistance. Steel, who had secured the 
rope to the bridge beam, spoke up : 

“ Have ye any last word ye want to leave Mrs. 
Jones? ” 

Jones was too weak to reply intelligibly. 

‘‘ Anything you’d like to say to your wife ? ” 

Jones only groaned for answer. 

“ Mebbe you’d like to see her once more.” 

Jones brightened enough at the thought of the 
brief respite to say, ‘‘ Oh, yes, Mr. Steel, let me 
go and see her.” 

‘‘ Will ye come back if we let ye go? ” 

‘‘ Oh, must I come back — must I come back ? ” 
he pleaded. 

“ Sure ye must come back. If ye won’t promise 
to come back, we won’t let ye go. If we’ll let 
ye go, will ye promise to come back ? ” 

To my infinite relief, I grasped the situation. 

131 


THE 


GANG 


Steel’s plan was still only to frighten Jones to the 
limit. 

If he won’t promise to come back, why, of 
course, we must go on with the bangin’,” said 
Steel, and he seized Jones as if he were finally to 
lift him over the bridge beam. 

‘‘Oh, don’t — d-o-n-’-t! I’ll come back! Let 
me go home! I’ll come back! ” 

“ Will ye promise to come back if we let ye go 
home?” 

“Yes, I’ll come back!” 

“ Shall we let ’im go, boys ? ” 

“ Yes,” the crowd answered, “ let ’im go if he’ll 
come back.” 

“ All right,” said Steel, and he began to loosen 
the rope from Jones’ neck. “ You prornjse to come 
back here to-morrow morning, say by nine 
o’clock, and we’ll let ye go home and see your 
wife.” 

“ Yes, I’ll be back,” eagerly promised Jones. 

“ Well, here goes,” said Steel, and he lifted 
the noose from Jones’ neck. Jones struggled to 
his feet, and repeating his promise to be back in 
the morning, started on the homestretch. The 
crowd parted and let him through. He wasted 
no time in getting away. Cries followed him from 
the crowd, admonishing him to “ Be sure and 
come back,” “ Come on time,” “ Come early and 
avoid the rush,” “ No seats reserved.” 


132 


A 


M 


O 


B 


After he was well away, Steel remarked, as 
he was untying the rope from the bridge beam : 

I rather think he’ll take the hint and pull his 
freight before mornin’. Mr. Blair, ye’d better put 
on your coat. Ye might take cold.” 

The crowd cheered while I blushingly resumed 
my overcoat, and then we all started back to 
town. Scudderville never saw W. S. Jones from 
that day. His wife remained to close his business 
affairs. This done, she followed him, no one 
knows where. Shortly before going, she came 
to Gene’s office and gave her explanation for 
Jones’ conduct. It seemed that some one had pro- 
posed the organization of a local company among 
the farmers for buying grain at Clear Creek. 
Jones understood that Steve had been asked to 
take charge of the buying in case the plan was 
carried out. He was very much concerned. He 
went to Steve about it. Steve told him that he 
had been so approached, but that he had no pres- 
ent thought of leaving Jones’ employ, and that 
he did not think any such concern would be organ- 
ized. But Jones would not believe Steve, and 
thought he was conniving to ruin Jones Brothers’ 
Clear Creek business. The matter, with other 
business troubles, preyed upon his mind to such 
an extent, Mrs. Jones thought, as really to un- 
balance him. She had not fully believed so until 
after the trial. Mr. Jones, after Steve’s arrest, 

133 


THE 


GANG 


had told her about the case, but had led her to be- 
lieve that some one else had discovered the crime, 
had brought the charge, and was furnishing the 
evidence for his conviction. But when she 
learned the facts in the matter, and realized that 
her husband had been fabricating from the very 
beginning, and took into consideration other 
strange things in his conduct, she convinced her- 
self, at least, that he was not in his right mind. He 
had undoubtedly conceived the plan of ruining 
Steve’s influence shortly after he wrote the letter 
which saved the boy. During one of his frequent 
visits to the Clear Creek office he had abstracted 
the letter from Steve’s files. He had put it be- 
tween the leaves of the book of account, and by 
oversight had failed to destroy it, as he had in- 
tended to do, a failure which had completely un- 
done his otherwise well-laid plan. 

I was inclined to believe that Mrs. Jones’ ver- 
sion of the case was in a measure correct. Former 
misconduct on Jones’ part, knowledge of which 
did not come out until after he had gone, was 
threatening to make him serious trouble. This 
unbalanced him, and his imagination exaggerated 
the menace of the proposed new grain company. 
The result was his attack upon Steve. 

After the episode at the bridge, the crowd, upon 
reaching the public square, separated. Going 
down the street alone, I met Miss Walton. She 
134 


A 


M 


O 


B 


had heard of the trouble and asked about it, ex- 
hibiting considerable agitation. 

‘‘ Mr. Blair, what has happened ? Did they 
hurt that old man ? ” 

“ Oh, no, nobody was hurt,” I said lightly to 
calm her. 

What were they all doing down at the river ? 
I saw a crowd coming back from there, and I 
heard ” 

“ Why,” I interrupted, we went down to see 
how the skating was, you know. I do love to 
skate so. Then we thought too, we might find 
a nice warm, cozy place to camp down there on 
the ice in case another blizzard should come 
along.” 

She smiled at my nonsense, and said : 

“ I know, Mr. Blair, that I shouldn’t ask about 
it, and it’s kind of you to refuse to tell me. I will 
be satisfied with the information that nobody was 
hanged. And I dare say,” she continued, abruptly 
changing the subject, ‘‘ your friend, Mr. Brad- 
gate, feels very proud of the victory he has won. 
I am glad, indeed, that that young man Russell 
stands vindicated. His poor mother was so 
broken. It could not be possible that such a good 
woman as she is could have a criminal son. Your 
friend deserves much credit for standing by the 
young man.” 

He will be especially pleased to know that you 

135 


THE 


GANG 


think so/' I said, and a dainty blush suffused her 
cheeks as I laid a gentle emphasis upon the ‘‘ you.” 

Oh, well,” she answered, somewhat discon- 
certed, of course every one — every one seems 
to think so.” 

We passed on. She had said little, but the 
memory of her words and of her looks remained 
with me. Next morning I told Gene what she 
said about him and the case. Gene blushed and 
stammered a little, just about as she had. I told 
him that too. 


t36 


CHAPTER XI 

THE MUNICIPAL CAMPAIGN 

T he vindication of Steve was also a com- 
plete vindication of Bradgate. The ca- 
pricious public mind, which so hastily and 
heartlessly condemned him for the course 
he took in defending Steve’s cause, as suddenly 
and emphatically reversed its judgment and 
lauded him for the courage he had shown in sup- 
porting Steve when all others were against him. 
In the management of the case he had done no bet- 
ter than many others would have done; yet the 
public showered him with praises for superior 
legal acumen. We sometimes get more than we 
deserve of praise as well as of blame. 

The ‘‘ Graphic ” tried to lessen the prestige 
coming to Gene as a result of his victory. In 
writing up the trial. Black said, in effect, that by 
a stroke of strange good fortune the letter sav- 
ing Steve from the penitentiary had been found; 
that Steve was to be congratulated upon his com- 
plete acquittal and vindication, notwithstanding 
his attorney’s gross negligence and mismanage- 
ment of the case. 

But the people did not take kindly to the 

137 


THE 


GANG 


“ Graphic’s ” criticism. Gene’s influence in the 
community had been noticeably increased. We 
now found, however, more frequent traces than 
before of Skinner’s endeavor to break Gene’s 
strength. Following with Gene, the thread of 
Skinner’s workings, I was amazed at the cunning 
and the industry he was employing in these ef- 
forts. It was now late in February. The city 
election would occur in March, at which time 
would be chosen a mayor and two councilmen. 
The present mayor was ** Dave ” Richards, a 
tool in Skinner’s hands, and it was generally un- 
derstood that he would be a candidate for reelec- 
tion. He was intoxicated fully one-half the time, 
and wholly unfit for office; and Gene and some 
others were considering the advisability of bring- 
ing out a candidate against him. 

John Marshall came up one night, and he and 
Gene discussed the matter. T rue to the combative 
instincts of the Scotch-Irish, and his own ener- 
getic nature, Marshall announced himself at the 
outset in favor of going right after ’em and 
cleaning ’em up.” Gene and Marshall had a copy 
of the poll list of the town, and went carefully 
over it to determine as nearly as possible their 
strength. They discussed the matter at length, 
and finally Gene gave it as his opinion that with a 
good candidate there was a chance of success. 

'' Of course we can win,” said John. ‘‘ Why, 


138 


THE MUNICIPAL CAMPAIGN 


everybody knows that old ‘ stotenbottle ’ of a 
Richards is no more fit for mayor than that old 
mouse cat in my grocery, and he has never done 
half so much for the town, either. He seems to 
consider, when he is not too drunk to consider at 
all, that the duties of the office consist in first see- 
ing that Black’s paper gets all the town printing, 
and is paid for it twice what it’s worth, and next, 
that Plumpy holds the job of clerk of the town 
council. Of course we can lick him ! ” 

How would Tom Duncan do ? ” asked Gene. 

At the mention of the name of Duncan, Mar- 
shall became silent and thoughtful. Presently his 
countenance brightened and he looked up at Gene, 
a broad grin spreading over his face. Then he 
raised his right hand and brought it down with 
much force on Gene’s knee, as he exclaimed : 

‘‘ You’ve hit it! You’ve hit it right, Mr. Brad- 
gate 1 We can take old Tom and give them such a 
belaboring a week from next Monday as no Irish- 
man ever got with a shellalah. You’ve struck it, 
Mr. Bradgate ! ” 

Next morning, after further discussion with 
others, it was decided to make the contest, pro- 
vided Tom would run. Tom Duncan was a 
rugged, knotty old Scotchman. In the after- 
noon he was brought into Gene’s office, where 
a committee, composed of Gene, Marshall, one 
Merrill, and Doctor Sprague, laid the proposi- 

139 


THE 


GANG 


tion before him. He was not a man of many 
words. He listened without interruption to 
Gene’s argument to the point that it was the duty 
of good citizens to take a hand in affairs. 

“ And now,” Gene went on, “ we have invited 
you here to request you to permit us to use your 
name in the next city election as candidate for 
mayor, and we shall be glad to hear what you 
have to say about it.” 

Old Tom was sitting at the side of the room, 
his chair against the wall, his legs crossed. In 
his hands, resting in his lap, he held a heavy 
hickory cane and a big brier pipe. 

And,” continued Gene, “ we want you to tell 
us what you will do.” ' 

Without moving a muscle and without shifting 
his eyes, which were gazing into Gene’s, old Tom 
answered : 

I think ni run.” 

While his reply had been quite in keeping with 
his usual manner. Gene was not expecting it to be 
given so quickly or so decisively. 

“ Of course, Mr. Duncan,” he said, “ we don’t 
want to take you into a losing contest; we want 
you to use your own pleasure and judgment in 
the matter.” 

Young man,” old Tom answered, “ you asked 
me to think about it, and I thought about it, and I 
said I would run. What more do you want ? ” 

140 


THE MUNICIPAL CAMPAIGN 


They saw the workings of old Tom’s mind!^ 
Gene’s argument, together with his own thor- 
ough acquaintance with the town, had stirred him, 
and he was already enlisted, armed and equipped 
for the battle. I had not known much of the old 
man before, but I liked him from that moment. 

When it got out, as it did in a short time, that 
Tom Duncan had consented to run against Dave 
Richards, the town was thrown into a turmoil of 
political excitement. While Gene had done all 
he could to keep himself in the background, the 
fight was soon commonly considered one under 
his leadership, and was accepted as a movement 
directed against the political supremacy of Skin- 
ner’s crowd. Although Gene’s opposition to Skin- 
ner had been generally known for months, this 
was the first real conflict. The election would 
demonstrate the relative strength of the two ele- 
ments in the town of Scudderville. 

It had been the custom to make up a non-parti- 
san ticket Accordingly, Skinner’s faction got to- 
gether a few nights before the election and nomi- 
nated what they called the “ Citizen’s Ticket.” 
Richards, a Republican, was named for mayor, 
and two Democrats for councilmen. The others 
in caucus nominated Duncan, a Republican, for 
mayor, and a Republican and Democrat for coun- 
cilmen, terming them the People’s Ticket.” 

Black exerted himself to the utmost in favor 

141 


THE 


GANG 


of Richards. In the issue of the Graphic ” 
immediately following the promulgation of the 
People’s Ticket, there came out a scurrilous ar- 
ticle, entitled Bradgate the Disruptionist.” It 
stated how, until the present year, the politics of 
the town had always run smoothly; how excel- 
lently government had been administered in 
municipal affairs, as well as in township and 
county matters ; and how all citizens ‘‘ were dwell- 
ing in the peaceful harmony of rural industry, 
honesty, and prosperity, until of late discord and 
dissension seem to have thrust their unwelcome 
presence into our midst to destroy our tran- 
quillity ” ; and it clinched these remarks with the 
concluding observation : ‘‘ Every one knows who 
is causing, or trying to cause trouble, but we 
do not think the flurry will last long, for the 
‘ self-styled ’ lawyer who aspires to notoriety does 
not have sufficient influence or ability to create 
more than a temporary annoyance.” 

But the fight grew daily more heated, though 
Skinner’s lieutenants pretended to believe that 
Tom’s candidacy was not serious upon his part, 
and that he did not expect or want to be elected. 
The people were much aroused. Skinner held out 
that no work was necessary for Richards, and 
that his election was a certainty, but Gene and 
his lieutenants knew that Skinner was busy in 
his own subtle way, and that he was deeply con- 
142 


THE MUNICIPAL CAMPAIGN 


cerned about the result. One evening, Timmy 
Marks, the village idiot, said something on the 
street that set forth the real situation. Timmy, 
a silly fellow, thirty or more, was always about 
with the street boys, for whom he furnished much 
entertainment. He had become much worked up, 
and was emphatically for Duncan. It was the 
night before election, and the first thaw of the 
spring was on. Though there were still great 
heaps of slushy, melting snow in the roadways, 
the air was balmy, and the small boys were out 
in force. Timmy had assembled a group on the 
walk in front of one of the banks. He was stand- 
ing a little above them on the steps haranguing 
them at a furious rate upon the vital questions of 
the day. His glittering blue eyes shone wild, and 
his bushy straw beard fairly bristled. He was 
arguing for Duncan. The boys, to keep him in as 
high a state of excitement as possible, were as- 
suming to disagree with him. 

‘‘ Oh, pshaw, Timmy! ” said one, ‘‘ Richards is 
going to be elected. Everybody knows that. Ask 
Skinner, and ask Black. Wouldn’t they have been 
out working if they hadn’t known Richards was 
going to be elected, anyhow ? ” 

“ Maybe Timmy don’t know Skinner and 
Black. Skinner and^Black ain’t working ? May- 
be Timmy don’t know ! You bet your life Timmy 
does know! Didn’t Timmy see something with 

143 


THE 


GANG 


his own two eyes and hear something with his 
own two ears last night when you shavers was 
all asleep? You bet he did! What did he see? 
ril tell you what Timmy see and what Timmy 
heard. Timmy see that same Norm Skinner and 
that same Bill Black that you shavers say are sure 
Richards is going* to be elected, come down to 
Bud McGuire’s barn — that’s what Timmy see! 
They come up the alley. And where was Timmy? 
Oh, Timmy was around, he was, and he seen and 
he heard, Timmy did. ‘ Bud,’ says Black, ‘ We’ve 
got to fight, or we ain’t in it’ ‘ That’s right, Bud,’ 
says Skinner, ^ you must see all the boys. Don’t 
pay ’em any more money ’n you have to, or give 
’em any more whisky than’s necessary, but we 
can’t afford to let ’em beat us, Bud.’ That’s what 
Norm Skinner said to Bud McGuire. ‘ We’ve got 
to fight and get out every man of them fellows 
that is roustabouters at the elevators, cattleyards, 
and railroad coalsheds. I don’t care. Bud, if they 
ain’t been washed for six months, we need ’em, 
and you’re the man that’s got to get ’em.’ That’s 
what Timmy heard. Timmy don’t know, does 
he? Oh, no, Timmy’s crazy! He don’t know! ” 
But the boys were not Timmy’s most attentive 
listeners. As soon as he began to speak of what 
he had seen and heard Skinner and Black do and 
say, several bystanders pricked up their ears, and 
heard distinctly what he said. No one doubted the 
144 


THE MUNICIPAL CAMPAIGN 


substantial truthfulness of Timmy’s report. Soon 
it was all over town that Timmy Marks had over- 
heard Skinner and Black in midnight conversa- 
tion tell Bud McGuire to buy all the votes he 
could for Richards. 

The effect of Timmy’s story was to work won- 
ders for Duncan, and the next day, long before 
the count of the votes was completed, Duncan’s 
election was assured. For councilmen the vote was 
closer. The judges of the election completed the 
counting about eleven o’clock at night, and it was 
found that Richards’ vote was two hundred and 
fifty-one, and Duncan’s three hundred and eighty- 
seven. One of the councilmen on Duncan’s ticket 
was elected. 

The town’s brass band, or such members of it 
as were Duncan’s supporters, turned out and 
marched to his house and serenaded him. The 
sturdy old fellow stalked out to his front porch, 
his pipe and cane with him (they were, as always, 
one and inseparable, or, rather, three and insep- 
arable). He said: 

“ Boys, I’m glad you came up. The folks are 
all in bed or I’d have you come in. Come again. 
Good night.” 

Tom’s speeches were always concluded when he 
had said all that he had to say — quite an uncom- 
mon characteristic among speechmakers. 

It was really a great victory, and important in 

145 


K 


THE 


GANG 


its bearing. It gave Gene much encouragement, 
and added numbers to his followers. And again 
the people passed judgment. 

That Bradgate is a politician too. Isn’t he an 
organizer? I tell you, Norm Skinner, ’n Bill Black, 
’n Plumpy, ’n the rest of ’em ’ll have to look after 
things pretty close, or he’ll do ’em. Why, there 
wasn’t a voter in town he didn’t have looked after, 
and he got ’em all out to the polls.” 

“Wait ’till next fall! Wait ’till next fall!” 
Bud McGuire remarked with knowing and senten- 
tious accent. “ They think they’re going to do 
old Norm and Bill, but your man Bradgate can’t 
touch them with a telegraph pole when they really 
get at it. They didn’t care anything about this 
election, anyhow.” 

The next issue of the “ Graphic ” stated that 
while it had favored the reelection of Richards, at 
the same time it had always felt nothing but kind- 
ness for Mr. Duncan ; that Mr. Duncan could not 
be blamed because certain persons supported him ; 
nor could he be held responsible for the shame- 
ful methods that some people had employed in his 
interest, without which his majority would have 
been greater. But it hoped all would run smoothly 
with the new administration, and believed that 
all would, provided that certain disturbing ele- 
ments were thrust aside. 

Shortly after the election Gene and I, with a 
146 


THE MUNICIPAL CAMPAIGN 


number of others, were invited to spend an eve- 
ning at the home of Mr. Pierce, an old and leading 
lawyer of the town. Miss Walton was in the 
party. During the evening, in chatting with us, 
she abruptly changed the subject and remarked, 
with an arch smile ; 

“ By the way, Mr. Bradgate, I understand that 
you are gaining a reputation in politics. I was 
warmly interested in the outcome of the election. 
I frankly told my father I hoped his ticket would 
lose, and that if I were a man I should surely take 
the stump against him. I congratulate you, as all 
good citizens should, upon your success.” 

This put a new idea into my head. From Gene’s 
standpoint, as he had said. Miss Walton was Miss 
Walton, and Skinner was Skinner. Possibly from 
her standpoint Bradgate was Bradgate, and Skin- 
ner was still Skinner. That night Gene sat a 
long time before the fire, thinking and dreaming. 
I could not see the things that passed before him 
in his waking dreams, but I am sure one of them 
was a bewitching and sweetly alluring girl of 
twenty-two or so, with big blue eyes. 


147 


CHAPTER XII 

SPRING SEEDING 

A S winter wanes and spring approaches, the 
farmer’s activities in politics lessen. The 
corn shellers, as they go about finishing 
their work in early March, still awaken a 
little interest around the farmer’s dinner or supper 
table with a bit of gossip about what Bradgate or 
Skinner or Heinrich or Baker or some one else has 
done, or is going to do ‘‘ next fall.” But the soil 
tiller is living again in the hope of another season. 
He will not have his budding plans materially in- 
terfered with by something that he need not settle 
until election time. He sets about getting things 
ready for wheat sowing. The big boys drop out 
of school; for the seed wheat, oats, and barley 
must all be run through the “ fanning-mill ” to be 
cleaned of “ kale ” and other noxious seeds. It is 
a comfortable time of it the boys and father have 
out in the granary taking turns about, now turn- 
ing the fanning-mill crank, now shoveling the 
grain into the fanning-mill hopper, or pouring it 
in from a basket, and now clearing it away after it 
comes out clean and heavy. It is just cold enough 
to make them want to work. There is work 


148 


SPRING SEEDING 


enough to keep them warm. There is hope 
enough to keep them lively and full of chatter. 
Then the farm machinery must be overhauled 
and repaired. What ingenious boy or man cannot 
have a good time doing that ? Soon the snow dis- 
appears. It leaves two or three feet of frost in 
the ground, perhaps, but before long the frost has 
gone from the surface soil, and the sun and wind 
have dried it sufficiently so that it is agreed ‘‘ it 
will do to sow wheat to-morrow.” 

It is with more than usual interest that the 
'' chores ” are done the night before spring seed- 
ing begins. The horses, on which now so much 
depends, and which have always been well kept, 
are given an extra ear or two of corn, and a little 
larger forkful ” of hay apiece, and bedded al- 
most to their knees in bright, clean straw. The 
boys whistle and sing while they are caring for 
them. When the night’s work is done, the stable 
doors, the yard gates and bars, are all closed, and 
the boys and the father meet on the way to the 
house for supper. They stop a few minutes before 
going in, to talk of the work of the morrow. 

The sun has gone down clear, and the red, deep 
glow it left in the west still shows above the plain 
at the far western skyline. The stars are coming 
out and the air is pleasantly crisp and still. They 
can hear the chonking ” of the comfortable 
steers in the feed yard, and the rustling of hay in 

149 


THE 


GANG 


the mangers as the horses nose it about for a 
more select morsel. All is contentment, peace, 
hope, and trust. The father and the boys im- 
pressed, perhaps unconsciously, by the stillness, 
speak now in subdued voices, and as they talk 
look out across the miles of darkening prairie 
about them and up at the great field above, now 
flecked here and there with stars. The expanse of 
both earth and sky seems immeasurable. The 
universe seems so big, and they so little. After a 
brief time of talking together, they all become 
silent and gaze a moment about and above, con- 
templating the familiar, but ever mysterious 
scene. Night upon the prairie is much like night 
upon the open sea. They recall the words, though 
they may not speak them, The heavens declare 
the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his 
handiwork.’’ 

They go in to prepare for supper. The washing 
of hands and faces, a vigorous splashing proceed- 
ing, is conducted, since the winter is gone, just 
outside the kitchen door in a tin hand basin.” 
The disheveled hair is arranged with the common 
comb, which has more teeth absent than present. 
The little old round-framed distorting mirror, 
does not help much in the hair-combing process. 

The supper is a pleasant and lively one. Then 
a little more time and to bed. Four o’clock in the 
morning will come all too soon. But when it 
150 


SPRING SEEDING 


comes they are up. The glow of red has shifted 
from the west to the east. They bustle out into the 
frosty morning air. Stars are shining yet. Across 
the fields comes the steady, solemn boom-boom ” 
of the prairie chickens. Down at the barn the 
horses are impatiently calling for their breakfast, 
while the stolid cattle stare dumbly through the 
yard fence, waiting for their food too. Chores ” 
and breakfast are soon over. Then the horses, in 
heavy harnesses, are taken out and hitched three 
abreast to the seeder, and three, four, or five 
abreast to the wide harrow, and the work of the 
year in the great Northwestern wheat field is 
begun. 

No time for politics now. No time? Yes, 
there is time. Busy as he is from daylight until 
dark in the monotonous journey, up and down 
his long, broad fields of soft, brown-black soil, 
the toiler still devotes the day to politics. He 
thinks. 


161 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SOCIABLE 

M arch, with its round of snow, sunshine, 
rain, frost, mud, wind, thaw, and chill, 
had gone. April, the month of black 
plowed fields, seeding, and harrowing, 
was here. The young people of the Methodist 
church were holding a “ sociable ” at the parson- 
age, in order to raise money for a new church 
organ. It was a public affair. You could go 
when you pleased, and stay as long as you pleased, 
provided you paid the price of the sociable — 
fifteen cents. 

Among the members there were some pleasant 
young women, so I coaxed Gene to go. During 
the afternoon it had been warm and sultry, and 
toward evening a storm was rising out of the 
northwest. 

The air was so oppressive and stifling that we 
waited until quite late before starting. When we 
reached the parsonage, the front yard was full 
of lively young people flitting about, having a 
thoroughly good and a thoroughly informal time. 
The company was bright, keen-witted, well-man- 
nered, agreeable, and included a number of our 
152 


THE SOCIABLE 


friends — among others, Miss Walton and Charley 
Skinner. 

Games of various kinds were in progress. At 
one side of the lawn there was a croquet ground 
with little Chinese lanterns suspended from the 
wickets. Other lanterns hung from the little 
box-elders and soft maples round about. Some 
of the guests were on the lawn, some were in the 
patent swing or rocker, and some were visiting 
in groups with congenial friends. Others were 
assisting in the arrangements for further enter- 
tainment, and for the light refreshments which 
were to be served. A number were gathered in 
the front room of the house about the old family 
melodeon, singing. Miss Walton was called for 
by this group. She would not sing alone, but 
she helped, mingling her voice with the others. 

Mrs. Walters, the minister’s wife, seemed to be 
in demand everywhere. She had finally succeeded 
in satisfactorily deciding a disputed point among 
the croquet players. She had readjusted the 
back hair of the diffident Miss Murray, which had, 
at an inopportune moment, fallen down, and the 
sympathetic Mrs. Walters had much more trouble 
in soothing the feelings of the bashful girl than in 
arranging the hair. She had told the girls in the 
kitchen, until they understood it, just how big 
to cut the pieces of cake, and just how much and 
what kinds to put upon each plate. 


153 


THE 


GANG 


These things done, she at last came into the 
room where I was standing, listening to the co- 
nundrums that a spinster “ schoolma’am,” Miss 
Blythe, was propounding. The conundrums and 
the spinster were of about the same age, and 
equally tiresome, and I was doing violence to my 
conscience by trying to be entertained and by act- 
ing as if I considered the riddles ‘‘ just splendid,’' 
and “ so new.” Other amusements subsiding, 
Mrs. Walters went out and asked all to come into 
the house. After they had crowded inside, she 
announced as the next feature a rhyming contest. 
The methods of social entertainment in the West 
are usually a following of the old forms of the 
East. The West, even to this day, has been too 
much occupied with sterner duties to do much 
in inventing pastimes. 

Mrs. Walters stated the terms and conditions 
of the contest to be in substance these : Three sub- 
jects would be announced, upon any one of which 
within ten minutes, each member of the party was 
to construct a rhyme. Slips of paper were passed, 
each bearing a number. Three judges were to be 
named, who should select a best, second, and third 
best rhyme. While there were to be three prize 
winners, only two prizes would be given. The 
author of the production declared to be the best 
was to share equally the ownership of the first 
prize with the author of the second best produc- 
154 


THE SOCIABLE 


tion, and to divide in the same way with the au- 
thor of the third best production the second prize. 

The “ presiding elder,” Doctor Brown, Miss 
Blythe, my spinster, and I were named as the 
judges. Nothing could separate me from that 
spinster. The judges, in a brief consultation with 
Mrs. Walters, selected the subjects. We ap- 
pointed her timekeeper, and asked her to announce 
the subjects. 

“ Now we are ready,” she said. ‘‘ I will name 
the subjects which the judges have agreed upon, 
and the time will be counted from the naming of 
the last of the three. ‘ Cats,’ ‘ April,’ and 
‘ Women.’ Begin now.” 

Then they went at it. Some worked furiously. 
Some scrawled slowly and deliberately, and some 
scowled and looked very sober, but could not write 
at all. 

The time up, we gathered the papers and re- 
tired to read and consult. Here are a few, and 
all things considered, perhaps not so bad: 

The only trouble seems to me, 

With the subjects that we’ve got. 

Is, April, cats, and women 
They’re such a squally lot. 

Another wrote shyly : 

I gave my mitten 
To a poor little kitten. 

155 


THE 


GANG 


and evidently fearing this might not be deemed 
to have come within the statutes made and pro- 
vided, the poet appended an explanatory note : 

Kitten, same as cat. 

Another was like this : 

April’s come, 

So they tell. 

And ’pears to me 

It’s hotter’n 

Time’s up. Can’t finish. 

This was in a boyish scrawl, that somehow 
reminded me of Charley Skinner. 

Another furnished this: 

Onct I had an old black cat; 

He used to sleep in grandpap’s hat. 

Dog come along and chased ’im away. 

Gone all night, gone all day. 

Didn’t git back till nex’ day night 
An’ then that cat was a dreadful sight. 

An eye was gone an’ he’d lost an ear — 

I tell you what that cat looked queer. 

I didn’t know what to say; 

Him to get chawed up that way. 

So I took ’im out to whip ’im hard. 

But I didn’t — I greased his ear with lard. 

An’ then I up an’ says “ Scat! ” 

An’ he jumped back in grandpap’s hat. 


156 


THE SOCIABLE 


The author of that must have come from In- 
diana or thereabouts. 

We had no difficulty in settling upon the ones 
that should be given first and second places. A 
solemn promise was made the authors of these 
two that their names would not be divulged nor 
their lines quoted. They are both very good 
friends, indeed, of mine, and their wishes will be 
respected. The third best troubled us more. 
Doctor Brown and I agreed readily enough on 
this also, but my spinster friend would not have 
it our way. 

'' I just know,'’ she said with the sweetest old- 
maidish vivacity she could summon, “ that Carrie 
Reynolds wrote that, and she’s no more nor less 
than an old maid, and I for one don’t like old 
maids.” 

Doctor Brown almost offended her by staring 
at her for a good long time in dumb astonish- 
ment; but we in due time settled the matter. 
Then Doctor Brown distributed the prizes. 

The first and second were given, to have and 
to hold jointly, a teaspoon — a circumstance which 
provoked considerable amusement upon the part 
of the company, and some embarrassment upon 
the part of the winners. They both blushed — one 
of them in an awkward, shamefaced, schoolboy 
way, as I afterward told him; and the other be- 
witchingly, fascinatingly. Then to the first and 

157 


THE 


GANG 


third were given each the undivided one-half of a 
pincushion. The spoon and pincushion brought 
forth numerous suggestions of varying degrees of 
wit. Then everybody chatted noisily, moving about 
through the crowded parlor, sitting and dining- 
room, downstairs bedroom, and the kitchen. The 
heat was so noticeable that doors and windows 
were open wide. Presently some one came in 
from outside, saying a heavy storm was close 
upon us. 

‘‘ Hark ! What’s that noise ? Is it thunder or 
is it a train ? ” somebody said excitedly. 

Through the evening not a breath of air was 
moving. The leaves of the trees that could be 
seen about the lighted Chinese lanterns hung dead 
still. 

Every one gave instant attention and listened. 
A look of alarm overspread many of the faces. 
The sound ever approaching, and ever increasing, 
outlasted thunder’s roar. It could not be that of 
a moving train. No locomotive with its heavy, 
rumbling line of cars, however long, could so com- 
pletely permeate space with sound, as did this 
mysterious, swiftly approaching unseen monster. 

“ A cyclone ! ” screamed a woman, and then 
pandemonium reigned. 


\ 


1S8 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE CYCLONE 

T here was a sudden intermingling of 
screams, wails, and prayers. Some 
rushed out of doors. Others dived for 
refuge beneath the tables. Some screamed 
frantically for the way to the cellar. The good 
pastor sprang to the cellar door, opened it, and 
shouted : 

“ Go down, friends, quickly, but be careful ! 
Go down ! ” 

Many started. Most of the men, but not all, 
waited for the women and younger ones. Doctor 
Brown, the presiding elder, was among the men 
who did not wait. No sooner was the door 
opened, than this eminent divine made a plunge 
for it, and down he went, falling most of 
the way. Mr. Walters quietly held the door 
ajar, his wife taking her place beside him. The 
roar was now close at hand, and the surging 
stream of people was still pouring and tumbling 
into the cellar, their cries and groans adding to 
the terror. 

Then the storm struck. 

It seemed for one awful moment as if all the 

15d 


THE 


GANG 


elements of destruction had united their strength 
and set upon us at once. Doors slammed, the 
wind tore through the house, pictures came crash- 
ing to the floor. The lights went out, leaving us 
in inky darkness, illumined, however, at frequent 
intervals by flashes of lightning. 

The period of the crisis seemed painfully long 
— much longer than it could in fact have been. 
When it was over I realized that we were yet 
within the house, and that, while we had been 
shaken violently, no serious harm had come to 
any of us. The hum of the storm was still to be 
heard, though growing fainter and fainter as it 
went sweeping on its way. The rain was now 
falling heavily. 

Mr. Walters struck a match to relight the 
lamps. As his match flashed up, breaking into 
the darkness. Miss Walton was standing, pale 
and still, near Gene. His face was white too. As 
the flame of the lamp took up and expanded the 
light begun by the match, a hand could be seen 
clasping Gene’s arm. After the light was fully 
on. Miss Walton, seeming suddenly to become 
conscious of her attitude, glanced up into Gene’s 
face with a startled look, and then hastily stepped 
a pace from him. The hand was no longer clasp- 
ing his arm. It was not until the roar of the rain 
ceased, a few moments after the passing of the 
wind, that we rallied our scattered senses. 


160 


THE 


CYCLONE 


We soon ascertained that no one in the house or 
cellar was hurt except the presiding elder, who 
had bruised himself in his fall. Of those who had 
gone out of doors, however, we found that one 
young woman was seriously injured by flying 
timbers. This discovery again raised a tumult 
of excitement. Perhaps other houses had been 
destroyed. Anxious thoughts arose as to the 
fate of friends and kin left at home. Men and 
women started off, some wild and frantic, others 
calm, but pale, to solve the awful question. 

We took the injured girl into the house, and 
leaving her in Mrs. Walter’s care, again set out. 
We had just stepped off the porch, Mr. Walters 
leading, when he exclaimed : 

‘‘ Why is it that we can’t see the lights to the 
east of us? To the west of us nearly every house 
is lighted. Is it possible that the storm has put 
out the lights on this side of us ? ” 

We had hardly passed the gate when we stum- 
bled upon a pile of timbers. We discovered that 
it was part of a shingle roof. 

“ I am afraid,” said the minister, “ something 
terrible has happened. I think we would better 
get some lanterns. Mr. Blair, if you will go 
back and get my lantern, I will go to Smith’s, next 
door, and get another.” 

Accordingly, I returned to the house, while Mr. 
Walters started for Smith’s. Mrs. Walters found 

161 


THE 


GANG 


and lighted the lantern for me, and I went out 
again. Outside I met Mr. Walters, with others 
pressing close to him. 

“ Boys,” he said breathlessly, as I approached, 
“ Mr. Smith’s house is gone, entirely gone. 
There’s nothing but the foundation left. I’m 
sure I can’t be mistaken, for in feeling for the 
door I stumbled, and reaching down touched the 
underpinning. We must hurry, for I’m afraid 
our friends need help.” 

We hastened along the street, and in a moment 
I heard a moan which was shortly repeated. 

‘‘ Some one is hurt out here,” I cried, and fol- 
lowing in the direction of the sound we were soon 
stumbling over loose and broken timbers. Pres- 
ently reaching a pile of debris, we found, held 
down by a section of the house roof, neighbor 
Smith’s wife. Her head and body were free 
from the weight, but her legs were fast. In des- 
perate haste we pried up the load and released her, 
and tenderly bore her back to the pastor’s house. 

Two victims we had now found; how many 
more were there? Out again on the search, we 
could see a number of other lanterns flitting about 
to the east of us, and the air was filling with the 
cries of grief-stricken friends seeking for their 
loved ones. I have not the heart to recount the 
horrors of that night. 

The storm had swept a strip of territory about 

162 












jb( 9 ^ <*>. Ji^^Kri^^BSEKS ' 












“ We were at our work of rescue all through 
the night ” 


Page 163 











- 

'il'T > 1 - 

TT.* r< *• 




■ ^ ■ — . ■ 

' • a- 


i. . - 













THE 


CYCLONE 


a quarter of a mile in width. The pastor’s house 
was the only one on that street left standing. 
Many families had taken refuge in cellars and 
“ caves,” and although their dwellings had been 
swept away, they had in this manner escaped 
death. Others had either not heard or not 
heeded the roar of the storm, and it had struck 
them in their homes, lifting them, with their 
dwellings, clean from the earth. Men, women, 
and children, with houses, furniture — every- 
thing, had been hurled and twisted into one indis- 
criminate flying mixture, and scattered along its 
track, broken, bruised, mangled. Many were 
dead or worse than dead. Others had been 
struck by flying missiles. Death, in its most 
frightful forms, had been abroad. On the other 
hand, some drawn up into the whirlwind had 
been thrown about in its vortex, and then set 
down again many rods away from the starting- 
point, without the trace of injury. 

The storm had performed marvelous freaks. 
It seemed as though all-powerful hands had 
seized upon everything within their reach in a 
riot of madness or terrible glee, winding, twist- 
ing, bending, and tearing them into shapes most 
fantastic. 

We were at our work of rescue all through 
the night. Sometimes a scattered family would 
be brought together, all save one, and that one 

163 


THE 


GANG 


could not be found, living or dead, seek where 
we would ; and the others would hope and wait — 
wait — some with fortitude and courage that was 
wonderful to behold, until the great Ruler should 
make known the awful secrets of the night by 
the searchlight of the sun. In the grayness of the 
dawn, as it crept over the ruins of the little town 
and out upon the surrounding prairies, it re- 
vealed destruction more awful and complete than 
in the darkness we had imagined. In the storm’s 
path not a building, and scarcely a tree, was left 
standing. Everything was leveled to the ground. 
In the other part of the town, including most of 
the business portion, little injury had been done. 

As soon as the news had been carried to the 
neighboring towns, helping hands came in large 
numbers to assist us in caring for the wounded 
and the dead. Hospitals were improvised. A 
corps of physicians, made up in part of volun- 
teers from the neighboring towns, with the assist- 
ance of a hastily organized body of nurses, did 
all that could be done to alleviate the suffering and 
save life. For days, friend and foe, members of 
this faction and members of that, worked har- 
moniously side by side. Little differences were 
forgotten in the presence of the terrible catas- 
trophe. 

Miss Walton had worked throughout the night 
after the storm, bandaging wounds, nursing and 

164 


THE 


CYCLONE 


caring for the injured. The next morning when 
the physicians on the ground were organizing and 
systematizing their work, finding it necessary to 
place some one in charge of the nurses, they se- 
lected her. The frightful sights were almost 
more than she could bear, but it was necessary to 
be done, and she did it. 


t69 


CHAPTER XV 

THE *• PUTTING OUT” OF BILL CROWLEY 

L ate in the day, after the storm, Miss 
Walton and I were standing beside the cot 
of Bill Crowley, an ex-sheriff of the 
county. Bill was seriously hurt, and had 
been placed, with many others, in the main audi- 
ence room of the Catholic church, the pews hav- 
ing been removed, and pallets arranged on the 
floor. Bill, who used to be a cowboy, was rough 
and a little boisterous at times, but a generous- 
hearted, brave man. Some people said that he 
had been too good a man to secure reelection for 
sheriff. But Bill was going to die. He said to 
me once as I passed near him, clutching his 
breast as he spoke : 

Hurts like Sam Hill, Blair. Don’t much 
think I can stick her through.” 

Doctor Sprague, an old friend, was looking 
after him. Bill’s chief anxiety was for his little 
daughter, Tressie, five years old, and his only 
child. 

He and she had lived alone most of the time 
since the death of her mother. Such assistance 
as he had had in her care had been rendered by 

166 


« PUTTING OUT” OF CROWLEY 


the wife of a neighbor. They were both in the 
home when the storm struck. He was told early 
in the morning that the little one had escaped un- 
hurt, and that she was now in good hands at the 
home of one of his friends, and would be the 
recipient of every care. 

As Miss Walton and I came up. Doctor 
Sprague was saying, and there were tears in the 
doctor’s eyes and choking in his voice, for he 
loved Bill : 

Bill— Bill, I— I ” 

Spit it out. Doc,” said Bill feebly; ‘‘ there 
ain’t no sense in your stammering that way.” 

“ I presume,” the doctor went on, calmed by 
Bill’s calmness, “ I suppose we better send for 
Tressie pretty soon.” 

“When, Doc?” 

“ Why — why — any time — this afternoon.” 

“ She’s up to Mrs. Simpson’s, and Mrs. Simp- 
son said she was sleeping a spell ago,” Bill re- 
sponded. “ It ain’t good for children to wake ’em 
up when they’re sleepin’. Doc. We’ll let ’er have 
’er nap out, won’t we. Doc? ” 

“ Yes, but we better send for her before long, 
I guess,” answered the doctor slowly. 

“ All right. Doc,” and he lay still awhile, turn- 
ing his eyes frequently toward Miss Walton. He 
was very weak. Soon he motioned me closer 
to him. 


167 


THE 


GANG 


“ Guess you might’s well bring the little gal in. 
She’s up to Mrs. Simpson’s.” 

His voice was weaker. I knew what it meant, 
and hurried away and brought the child. She 
was a sweet little thing, with soft brown eyes and 
brown hair. She came rather shyly with me to 
the couch where her father lay. 

“ Did they wake you up. Babe? ” he asked, his 
voice still more feeble; but he smiled bravely 
upon her as he said it. Slowly, and with great 
difficulty and much pain too, he reached out his 
hand to meet hers. 

No, papa, I waked myself.” 

There were tears now in Bill’s eyes as he gazed 
at her, love ineffable shining from his honest face. 
He held her hand a little while, no one speaking a 
word; then turning his eyes to Miss Walton, he 
said almost in a whisper : 

Miss Walton, I would like to ask something 
of you.” She stepped a little nearer to him. 
'' And, Blair, maybe you’d better listen to what 
I’ve got to say.” 

Then he went on : 

“ Miss Walton, I ain’t never knowed much of 
you, but I’m goin’ to ask a great favor of you. 
The little gal is all I am leaving in this world, 
’cept our house and a few hundred dollars that 
I’ve got here in my pocket, and maybe a few odds 
and ends around here and there. When I’m put 
168 


<< putting OUT” OF CROWLEY 


out, I — I kinder would like to have you look after 
her,” and he looked at Tressie. “ I know it’s ask- 
in’ too much of one you don’t know.” 

Miss Walton glanced quickly at the child, 
studied her for an instant, and then replied : 

I will do what I can for her, Mr. Crowley, 
if it is your wish. I am sure others could do 
much better; but I’ll do what I can.” And as 
she said it she drew closer to the little girl, knelt 
beside her and pressed the little one’s cheek 
against her own. 

The father looked on, the tears now running 
down his face. “ I kinder knowed you’d like 
’er,” he whispered ; and then continued, “ Blair, 
will you jest bring me them pants? ” I did so. 

‘‘ Just reach in the pocket an’ get that wallet o’ 
mine.” 

I reached in and took out the old leather 
pocketbook. 

I ain’t real stout,” he said; “ just hand it over 
to Miss Walton.” I did so. Take it,” he said 
to her, an’ do what you can for the little gal. 
I know it’s askin’ too much of you — but — but 
there ain’t much time. And should you want to, 
or find it necessary to, give ’er over to some one 
else — I hain’t got no kin, an’ I know you’ll do 
what’s right for her. I want the gal to get more 
learnin’ than her dad got, an’ go to Sunday-school 
more’n her dad did; an’ if you can’t take the 

^69 


THE 


GANG 


time yourself, you’ll see that the right one gets 
her, won’t you?” He was now whispering 
feebly. 

“ Mr. Crowley, I will keep her as if she were 
my very own.” 

A glad look came into his face again. She 
is yours, she is yours ; keep her. God bless you — 
an’ the little gal. Good ” 

That was all. A stern, brave man, rough and 
unpolished perhaps, but graced, notwithstanding, 
with a kind and noble heart, had gone from the 
world where the stern and brave and kind are 
much needed. 


170 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE PLAY OF POLITICS 

I N a few weeks the ruin occasioned by the 
storm had been pretty well cleared away, and 
new buildings had been erected or were under 
way in the places of the old ones. The neigh- 
boring towns assisted in the reconstruction. But 
the horrors of the cyclone have probably never 
been effaced from the memory of any who 
passed through it. I cannot to this day hear the 
coming of a windstorm without shivering, as the 
awful scenes again appear with terrifying vivid- 
ness. 

In a little time, in most respects, the old order 
of things returned. The town took up its com- 
monplace affairs where it had left them. The old 
strifes, prejudices, jealousies, and rivalries re- 
turned too. The ^‘ Graphic ” continued its libel- 
ous assaults upon Gene, and new proofs of Skin- 
ner’s vindictiveness were repeatedly coming to 
light. Skinner was as determined and vicious as 
ever in his opposition, but some of his old hench- 
men were not quite so ardent. Trouble and death 
in the home do not always reform the members 
of the household; but in many cases, for a little 

171 


THE 


GANG 


while at least, when the hurt is yet fresh, they 
will speak more courteously to the preacher when 
they meet him, and do less fawning when they 
meet the devil. 

The time was drawing near for the Republican 
County Convention to name the delegates to the 
State, congressional, and senatorial conventions. 
Skinner, Black, and Plumpy, with others of their 
crowd, had been sent year after year to these 
gatherings. They would, no doubt, seek places 
this year. Plumpy had had his eye on the custo- 
dianship of the Statehouse for a year or two. 

When it appeared that one Peters, of Washing- 
ton County, would surely be nominated and elected 
governor, Plumpy became an enthusiastic Peters 
man and, we learned, was slated by the gang to go 
to the State convention as a leader of a Peters’ 
delegation. This would materially assist him in 
securing, at Peters’ hands, the appointment which 
he coveted. 

Gene and his “ machine,” for he now had a 
machine, decided to keep the Skinner element off 
from all the delegations if possible, and to elect a 
new list of representative men throughout. The 
word was passed over the county. The county 
convention would be held in Scudderville Satur- 
day afternoon. On the Wednesday night prece- 
ding, the townships would hold caucuses to select 
delegates to the county convention. On the Tues- 
172 


THE PLAY OF POLITICS 


day evening prior to the caucuses, there was a 
meeting of leaders in Gene’s office. They had de= 
tailed reports in writing of the situation in every 
township. It looked now as though Gene’s forces 
would control in nine of the sixteen townships. 
But the great danger was in Scudder, where 
Scudderville was located. Without it they would 
probably have the nine, or a majority of the 
townships, but not a majority of delegates on the 
floor of the convention. 

Old Skinner must be up to something deep ; 
he looks so cussed meek lately,” remarked Roger 
Gorman, a strong, hearty blacksmith, who was 
one of Gene’s most trusted and useful allies, par- 
ticularly influential with the young men of the 
town. 

Yes, and he prayed rather longer than usual 
last Sunday night up at the church,” responded 
Sam Packett, a vigorous old fellow, rather cynical 
in religious matters. Skinner belonged to the 
Methodist church. He was not very active in his 
relations to it, but Sam made the mistake so com- 
mon, of concluding that because some are coun- 
terfeits, there are no genuine coins in the earthly 
mints of God. 

Well, he may fool the Lord and old Elder 
Brown a little, but he can’t work Mr. Walters or 
many of the voters of the Methodist church if he 
prays from now till one o’clock next Saturday 

173 


THE 


GANG 


afternoon/’ said Merrill ; and I rather mistrust 
the Lord’s on to him too.” 

“ Plumpy is moving among the boys armed 
with his invincible smile and a box of cigars,” said 
Marshall ; “ and Black will thumb more button- 
holes to-morrow than all the tailors in town.” 

Looking out upon the street early next day, 
through the warm, simmering air of the murky 
June morning, signs of the conflict were to be 
seen. Men stood about in numerous groups 
talking animatedly. The natural habitat of the 
American people is in an atmosphere of politics. 
It was interesting to watch the workers. Black’s 
tactics were particularly entertaining. Sighting a 
victim, he would sing out in a genial tone, always 
using the first name : 

‘‘Hello, Bill! Hey, Bill! Wait a minute. Bill.” 
Bill would stop. “ Howdy, Sir William. How’s 
the wife and baby? No baby? Well, that’s too 
bad ! Well, say. Bill, you want to come up to the 
caucus to-night.” And he would familiarly lay 
hold of the lapel of Bill’s coat with one hand and 
give him a ticket with the other. 

“ Here’s a ticket. Look it over. Looks pretty 
good, don’t it ? ” 

He would go on saying something that the by- 
standers couldn’t hear, and after whispering still 
more confidently in Bill’s ear, with a friendly pat 
on the shoulder, off he would go to look up 

174 


THE PLAY OF POLITICS 


another Bill, breaking off his conversation as 
cheerfully as he had begun it. There was unde- 
niable magnetism in his manner, and he controlled 
many voters. 

Plumpy seldom talked politics at all. He did 
not know anything about politics when it came to 
a matter of party principles. His first, last, and 
only strength lay in the persuasive influence, not 
of argument, but of cigars, beer, and whisky, and 
his genial manner. These forces he handled in a 
masterly way. He was always campaigning. He 
began on the day after each election to deal out 
smokes and drinks for the two years hence. A 
short, round figure, his beaming face smooth 
shaven, he bustled about, leaving a cigar here and 
there, and frequently steering a jovial party into 
a near-by saloon for a drink all around. His cam- 
paign of drinks was sometimes carried on a little 
too strenuously for himself. Before he could com- 
plete the circuit, he would once in a while become 
hors de combat. Usually, however, he drank 
lightly until after the returns were in, and then 
he invariably “ celebrated.” 

Skinner was never much on the streets when 
the crisis of a conflict was on. He appeared to be 
little concerned in the outcome. But he was al- 
ways where his aides could find him quickly, and 
where he could direct the fight. I saw him only 
two or three times on this day. In the morning he 

175 


THE 


GANG 


stopped at Freeman’s store on the way to his 
office in the courthouse. In the afternoon it was 
at the post-office. From there he went to Free- 
man’s store, Plumpy, Chapman, Suggs, Guegle, 
and Heinrich straggling in shortly after him. 
Then I casually dropped in, but none of them was 
in sight. In a few minutes Plumpy and Guegle 
came from the wareroom at the rear of the build- 
ing and went out, and then Chapman, Suggs, and 
Heinrich passed out. Later, Skinner and Free- 
man appeared. 

“ Little warm, Mr. Blair,” said Skinner to me. 
Freeman also spoke. Skinner soon left the store. 
When he had gone. Freeman asked me if Gene 
was in his office. I answered that I thought he 
was. 

I guess ril run up and see him in a few 
minutes,” he responded. 

I knew that a conference had been held and that 
some new move was on foot. I determined to see 
Gene and warn him of Freeman’s coming. I 
accordingly went up to the office and told him 
what I had seen and heard. Presently, Free- 
man came in. After overworking all the climato- 
logical vapidities in popular use, he finally strug- 
gled up to the real purpose of his visit. He pro- 
posed a compromise. He did not know what the 
other boys ” would say about it, but he thought 
it could be arranged to let Mr. Bradgate select all 
176 


THE PLAY OF POLITICS 


of the delegates from Scudder Township to the 
county convention, and all the delegates to the' 
State, congressional, and senatorial conventions, 
provided Skinner and Plumpy Baker were put on. 
Just put Norm and Plumpy on, and Mr. Bradgate 
could name all the others. Of course Skinner and 
Plumpy could win in a fight, anyway, but he did 
not want any more fighting in the party. After 
numerous repetitions and reiterations, he wound 
up the story. 

Gene listened patiently; and when he had fin- 
ished quietly told him that, in the first place, he 
had no right to make any such so-called compro- 
mise; and in the second place, if he had such a 
right, he would not do it. Freeman, at length, 
went reluctantly away. After he had gone, I said 
to Gene: 

'' It rather looks as though you have them on 
the run, doesn^t it? ” 

“ Perhaps so,’’ was his only reply. He seldom 
made positive claims of success. 


177 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE CAUCUS 

I T lacked ten minutes of the appointed hour, 
eight o’clock, that evening when Gene and I 
reached the City Hall, where the caucus was 
to be held. Many had gathered, and were 
standing about on the sidewalk in front of the 
building, but most of them were of Gene’s polit- 
ical persuasion. Black and Plumpy Baker were 
there, however, and in a few minutes Sugs came 
up. A little later, Mr. Skinner appeared, accom- 
panied by a stranger, a well-dressed and alto- 
gether good-looking young man. 

‘‘ Well, boys, it’s eight o’clock, and we may as 
well begin,” said Baker shortly, and he started up 
the outside stairway, which led to the meeting- 
place. We filed in after him. 

‘‘What’s the matter?” I said aside to Gene. 
“Where’s the enemy? I can’t see half a dozen 
of Skinner’s men here! Who’s that stranger 
with Skinner ? ” 

“ I must say I don’t know. One thing is cer- 
tain, they cannot do much with this number.” 

We entered the room and took seats. A row 
of chairs stood against the wall, reaching entirely 

178 


THE 


CAUCUS 


across two sides and one end of the room. There_ 
were chairs to accommodate thirty or forty per- 
sons. Baker, being chairman of the township 
central committee, called the meeting to order 
and, taking from his pocket the ‘‘ Graphic,” read 
the formal call for the caucus. Then he asked for 
nominations for chairman. Marshall at once 
named Doctor Sprague. 

It had been previously arranged, in order to 
prevent the enemy from capturing the caucus, that 
Sprague was to nominate Marshall, and Mer- 
rill was to second the nomination. Before Mer- 
rill could do this, however, Norman Skinner 
was on his feet. We looked for some startling 
development. He stood silent for a moment, his 
tall, gaunt figure bent slightly forward and his 
hands clasped together in front of him. Per- 
haps he noticed the sudden look of apprehension 
that spread over the faces of those who were 
against him, and he longer refrained from speak- 
ing to enjoy the consternation he was creating. 
We expected a solar plexus, a death-dealing blow, 
so profound was our respect for his political 
prowess. Finally he spoke slowly : 

'' Mr. Chairman, I second Mr. Marshall’s mo- 
tion.” Our relief was equaled only by our sur- 
prise. What did Skinner mean by such a course ? 
Why was he assisting to organize a caucus ac- 
cording to his enemies’ programme? 


179 


THE 


GANG 


Doctor Sprague in the chair and the secretary 
elected, the chairman asked the further pleasure 
of the meeting. At this point, one of Gene’s fol- 
lowers moved that the caucus proceed to the elec- 
tion of delegates to represent Scudder Township 
in the coming county convention, and that the 
vote be taken by ballot. It had been thought wise 
to vote upon all important matters by ballot, since 
this method gave less opportunity for unfairness. 

Again Mr. Skinner was up. 

“ I think, Mr. Chairman,” he said, it will be 
just as well to elect these delegates by acclamation 
as by ballot. It will be much more expeditious. 
So far as I know, there is no contest.” 

This was another surprise to us. He went on : 

I wish to say in this connection that I learned 
late to-day that there has been some little mis- 
understanding among the members of our party 
in the township. In the interests of harmony, 
which all desire, I should like now to make a 
statement in reference to this misunderstanding, 
provided the chairman and house do not object. 
It bears on the method which we adopt for the 
election of delegates. 

‘‘ I understand that some have thought that Mr. 
Baker and myself, and possibly others, are op- 
posed to the selection as delegates of the gentle- 
men whose names, I have been told, will be pro- 
posed here to-night. I wish to say on behalf of 
180 


THE 


CAUCUS 


Mr. Baker and myself that such is not the case. 
We are not opposed to them or any one of them. 
We are both officeholders at your hands, and by 
your kindness. We have no concern whatever as 
to whom you send as delegates so long as they are 
good men and good Republicans, and I am sure 
they will be if you send those whose names are 
on the list which has been already prepared. 

I also understand that it has been reported 
that some of our friends would make objection 
to this ticket, because it was considered possible 
that it would be unfavorable to Mr. Baker as a 
delegate to the State convention, and to myself as 
a delegate to the congressional convention. Upon 
this point I desire to say that as soon as Mr. 
Baker became fully aware of how matters stood, 
he saw such of our friends as were inclined to 
object to the ticket on such grounds, and asked 
them to make no further objection. We felt 
that should we desire a place on either of these 
delegations, the men on your ticket would treat 
us as kindly as the Scudder Township delegates 
have always treated us in the past. But, as a mat- 
ter of fact, neither of us, under present circum- 
stances, could go on the delegations in question. 

“ Mr. Baker, I regret to state, has within the 
last few days received a letter from his former 
home in Indiana, stating that his brother, who has 
been ill for a number of months, is now gradually 

181 


THE 


GANG 


failing. The end is evidently but a few weeks 
distant. It is therefore Mr. Baker’s intention to 
go to Indiana at once, and remain with his 
brother until the end comes. It is not likely 
that he can return for the State convention. 

As for myself, I cannot very well — can I, 
Mr. Saunders? ” and he turned to the good-look- 
ing stranger near-by. “ I cannot be at the con- 
gressional convention on the twenty-seventh of 
July.” Mr. Skinner smiled as he looked at the 
stranger, and the young man blushed perceptibly. 

“ Somebody is goin’ to git married ! ” uncere- 
moniously broke in old man Dobbins, a plain- 
spoken old farmer, who had lately moved into 
town. 

‘‘ We’ll tell no secrets,” laughingly said Mr. 
Skinner; but the young man’s face had told one. 
I thought of Miss Walton, and I rather think 
Gene did also. 

No, gentlemen,” continued Mr. Skinner, “ I 
cannot be at the congressional convention; and 
while Mr. Baker and myself both thank you for 
the courtesy extended, we must say that we can- 
not act as delegates at these conventions this year. 
I repeat that we are in full sympathy with the 
ticket you have prepared, and now I move that 
we proceed to elect the following-named persons 
as delegates from Scudder Township to the 
county convention to be held next Saturday after- 
182 


THE 


CAUCUS 


noon, and that they be elected by acclamationj’ 
And he read the list that Gene and his friends had 
made up. 

Before any one else could speak, Plumpy Baker 
had seconded the nominations. The delegates 
were accordingly elected as proposed, by acclama- 
tion. 

By this time it was plain what had happened. 
Skinner and his friends at the last moment, and 
after receiving Freeman’s report of the failure of 
the compromise ” plan with Gene, seeing that 
they could not win, had taken this method of 
counteracting the effects of defeat. 

Sam Packet then moved the election of Merrill 
as chairman of the township central committee. 
Merrill was a capable man, energetic, honest, and 
loyal, and was generally respected. He had keen 
political perceptions, having an excellent faculty 
for discerning quickly the trend of political senti- 
ment. 

This chairmanship had always been Plumpy ’s 
job. It was an important position, because it had 
become the custom to make the Scudder Township 
chairman chairman of the county central com- 
mittee. Skinner and his men were not looking for 
this move. Previously, the delegates elected had 
named their chairman. But Gene and others 
thought it safer to settle it in the general caucus 
than to leave it to the delegates. Merrill was 

183 


THE 


GANG 


promptly elected, and Plumpy was dumbfounded. 
Securing the township chairmanship was, in 
several respects, a greater victory than the defeat 
of Skinner and Baker for places on the State and 
congressional delegations. The remaining busi- 
ness, which was to nominate township officers, 
was soon disposed of, and the caucus adjourned. 

After adjournment, Skinner and Baker shook 
hands with those of the delegates elected who 
were present, and expressed to them '' pleasure,” 
which the delegates knew they did not feel at the 
result. Then Skinner and his crowd hurried 
away. 

“ Well, Mr. Bradgate, we elected our ticket 
without much trouble, didn't we? I guess we 
were more scared than hurt.” This remark was 
made by Mr. Slake, a lukewarm friend of the 
Bradgate movement. He was a drygoods dealer, 
and his political platform was '' anything to get 
business, and offense to none.” Belonging, how- 
ever, to the Methodist church, most of the mem- 
bers of which were active in Gene’s support, he 
had, in his insipid way, more or less indefinitely 
placed himself on that side of the controversy. 
It was believed by some that he had a similar 
alliance with Skinner. That crowd had used him 
in times past to sugar-coat their tickets 

Marshall, the opposite of Slake, answered the 
remark, 

m 


THE 


CAUCUS 


‘‘We were neither scared nor hurt, Mr. Slake p 
we just licked ’em, and they took this way of get- 
ting out of a bad licking as gracefully as possible. 
I don’t think they will succeed in deceiving any 
one though, unless possibly a. few unsophisticated 
persons; and, if you will excuse me, men like 
you.” While Marshall said all this pleasantly, 
and half in the manner of one who did not seri- 
ously mean to impugn Mr. Slake’s motives or 
challenge his intelligence, at the same time we all 
took it to be very near the truth. Slake flushed. 

“ As for Skinner’s talk,” continued Marshall, 
“ it’s all hypocrisy. The truth is not in him. 
Maybe his daughter, or his wife’s daughter, is 
to be married, but what do you suppose he cares 
for that? Norm Skinner would stay away from 
his own funeral to go to a congressional conven- 
tion. As for Plumpy’s brother — well, I’ll tell 
you just what I’ll do. I don’t gamble, but I’ll 
agree to give about ten dollars in the current coin 
of this realm, to the first man who truthfully tells 
me between now and the State convention time, 
that Plumpy Baker has gone to Indiana. If I 
am not greatly mistaken, you will read shortly, 
in the “ Graphic,” of a marked improvement in 
the condition of the health of the brother of our 
respected townsman, rendering it unnecessary for 
him to return to his old home for the present, as 
was anticipated, 


185 


THE 


GANG 


“ What we must look out for now,” Marshall 
concluded, ‘‘ is to see that there is no one put on 
the State or congressional delegation who will 
voluntarily stay away from the convention and 
give a proxy to Skinner or Baker. Perhaps we’d 
better adopt a rule in the county convention that 
no proxies be allowed.” 

Gene and I went to our rooms. I sat down to 
read. Gene was in a meditative mood. When 
I arose to prepare for bed, he looked up at me, 
saying casually: 

“ Who is that man Saunders — I think that’s 
his name — where is he from ? ” 

One would scarcely have thought it of phi- 
losophic old Egypt. But when it comes to 
some things, we are all of us pretty much alike. 
The new-comer was worrying him. I could not 
enlighten him, and I confess, on my part, I felt 
a little blue too. I went into our sleeping-room, 
leaving him sitting alone by the open front 
window. 


186 


CHAPTER XVin 

THE WARNING 

I HAD scarcely closed the door when I heard 
a hurried, nervous step in the hall, and then 
a quick succession of rather timid knocks 
at the outer door of the office. I thought 
it was a woman. There was something in the 
step and the rap that startled me, and I stood still 
listening as Gene went to the door and opened it. 
Then a voice, plainly that of Miss Walton, said, 
in a subdued, frightened tremor, before Gene 
could utter a word: 

‘‘ Mr. Bradgate, Mr. Bradgate, you must come 
out of this room immediately. Some one is go- 
ing to shoot you through the open window.’’ 
Seeing that Gene made no move to leave the 
room, she went on imploringly, 

“ Come out ! Come out ! I know this must 
appear strange conduct in me, but your life de- 
pends upon it. You must come out at once! ” 

A door from the sleeping-room also led into the 
hall where she stood, and I crossed toward it to 
join her, feeling that something was dreadfully 
wrong. The thought flashed upon me that Skin- 
ner was preparing to pursue the course with Gene 

187 


THE 


GANG 


that rumor whispered he had taken some years 
previous with another dangerous rival. They 
were going to take his life, and Miss Walton 
had learned of it. 

“ Oh, I don’t think any one would care to 
shoot me. Miss Walton. What would they do 
it for?” Gene was saying as I approached. He 
was slow to appreciate the danger to himself. 

I know you are in danger. You must come 
out from there at once! ” the girl pleaded. 

“ Yes,” I interposed, Gene, you’d better step 
outside and let Miss Walton explain.” 

Turning to me, he answered, 

‘‘ Phil, I am in my own office. I have done no 
man wrong. I am not going to leave it and hide 
from any one. I think you are mistaken, Miss 
Walton. What possible danger can there be, 
anyhow? I have ” 

At that instant she sprang past him into the 
room, darting beneath his arm with which he 
was holding the door ajar, and getting between 
him and the open window, crying as she ran: 

Oh, I saw something glisten in that stairway 
across 1 ” 

Just as she had straightened up between him 
and the window, there was a sharp report of a 
rifle and a scream from Miss Walton. She threw 
her left hand to her right shoulder, turned toward 
Gene, and fell into his arms unconscious. 


188 


THE WARNING 


“Oh, why did I let her do it? Hurry, Phil,., 
for Doctor Sprague.” He was now bearing her 
to the couch at one side of the room. 

Sprague slept in the office across the hall from 
us. I rushed to the door, but he had heard the 
shot and the scream and came hurrying out as I 
approached. I quickly told him what had hap- 
pened. 

Gene Had placed the wounded girl on the couch, 
and was now bending over her. His face was al- 
most as pale as hers. 

“ I think it’s the shoulder, doctor,” he said, his 
voice indicating his agitation. “ If I had done 
as she asked, it would never have happened.” 

The doctor made a hasty examination. While 
this was going on, I set out for Skinner’s house to 
call Mrs. Skinner. On the stairs, I met the night 
watchman. He had heard the report of the rifle 
and the cry, and was coming up to find out what 
it all meant. I told him what I knew. 

“ Where did the shot come from? ” he asked. 

Stating my impression that it came from the 
stairway between the “ Graphic ” office and the 
Van Zandt saloon, I added, “ I’ll give you a thou- 
sand dollars to find the man who fired it and 
bring him to me.” 

“ I’ll get him if I can, you can bet on that,” 
he answered boastfully. 

I wanted at once to join in the search, but I 

189 


THE 


GANG 


knew that Mrs. Skinner should be informed of 
the affair without delay, so I proceeded to Skin- 
ner’s house. As I reached it, I heard the door 
close at the rear of the house, but there was no 
light visible within. I rang the bell, and pres- 
ently heard somebody coming from the back part 
of the house. It was Skinner himself. It must 
have been he whom I had heard closing the 
kitchen door. I told him briefly and bluntly what 
had happened. 

“ Mr. Skinner,” I said, “ a few minutes ago 
Miss Walton came to Mr. Bradgate’s office to 
warn him of an attempt upon his life which 
threatened at any moment. While she was there, 
some one fired a shot from the street, and the 
shot struck her, I think in the shoulder. She is 
now in Doctor Sprague’s care at Mr. Bradgate’s 
office. I came to inform her mother and you.” 

‘‘ She at Mr. Bradgate’s office ! ” he exclaimed, 
as if greatly shocked. “ What was she doing 
there? ” 

The tone and the remark angered me, and I 
retorted : 

“ Mr. Skinner, you know well enough that her 
purpose was right. I have told you precisely why 
she was there. Will you inform her mother, that 
she may go to her at once? ” 

“ Oh, certainly, certainly, Mr. Blair. It’s 
terrible, terrible! Yes; of course. I’ll tell her 
190 


THE WARNING 


poor mother right off. Who did my daughter 
say was going to attempt Mr. Bradgate’s life? ” 

“ She did not say,” I answered. 

'' ril call Mrs. Skinner.” Then he said, after 
a moment’s hesitation, “No; I guess I’ll go to 
the poor girl myself. I’ll spare her mother until 
I am sure she needs her. Perhaps she is not 
badly hurt. Who could have done it ? Mr. 
Bradgate is a fine young man. Who could wish 
to take his life? ” He started out in great haste, 
and I with him. Suddenly he halted and, turn- 
ing to me, said, 

“ You are sure, Mr. Blair, that it was not Mr. 
Bradgate that did it? ” I was both amazed and 
enraged at the question. 

“ Skinner,” I answered, “ you know that it was 
not Bradgate ; and your stepdaughter, if she lives, 
will tell you so. And, sir, she may tell more than 
you wish her to tell.” 

“ No, no, no, Mr. Blair ! Of course Mr. Brad- 
gate didn’t do it. He wouldn’t do such a thing! 
It was only my anxiety, my perplexity, over the 
whole strange affair that led me to suggest such 
an impossible thing.” He went on without 
further words until we had reached the stairway 
and were hurrying up to the wounded girl, when 
he said: 

“ Oh, where’s the poor girl ? Oh, here she is ! 
How badly hurt is she ? Oh, it’s Doctor Sprague, 

191 


THE 


GANG 


is it? I’m very grateful to you for what you’ve 
done, but — really, you know that Doctor Cass- 
man is our family physician, and while of course 
you are his equal in skill and knowledge, you 
must know how it is. We always want our family 
doctor. Will somebody be so kind as to call him? 
No, I’ll go myself,” and he rushed out before 
any one could offer to go in his stead. 

Miss Walton was still unconscious. It ap- 
peared that the bullet had struck the arm first 
between the elbow and the shoulder, and pass- 
ing through it and upward, had entered the side 
well toward the back. Doctor Sprague had ren- 
dered such immediate service as was necessary, 
but could not tell what injury the bullet had occa- 
sioned. 

By this time others had been attracted by the 
disturbance and were crowding into the room, 
most of them from the saloon and bowling alley, 
which were the only places of business open at 
that time of night. Among others came Bud 
McGuire. He was drunk — not a particularly un- 
usual thing for him — and was very boisterously 
telling what he would do if he found the “ feller 
that did the shootin’.” Sile Mason, also half- 
drunk, had come up. The bullet having struck 
the lower edge of the window-sash before it 
struck Miss Walton, cutting a track across the 
bottom of the sash, was proof conclusive that the 
192 


THE 


W A R N 1 N 


shot had been fired from without ; so the amateur 
detectives in the little crowd saw that any effort 
any one might have been inclined to make to settle 
the guilt on Gene would be upset by this fact. 

“ If I couldn’t hit a feller that I shot at,” said 
Sile, “ I’d go back East and quit shootin’.” 

‘‘ Well, what ye goin’ to do,” said Bud, as 
though displeased with Sile’s remark, “ when 
somebody springs in jest as ye pull the trigger? 
Are ye goin’ to whistle an call the bullet back 
like ye would a dog ? I guess I c n use a shootin’- 
iron’s well’s you can. I’m just as good a man 
as you be, Sile Mason, an’ if ye don’t believe it, 
come downstairs an’ I’ll show ye.” 

And he shook his fist at Sile, drunkenly. 

“ You talk as if you done it. Bud, or tried to 
do it,” answered Sile, grinning. Bud rolled his 
bloodshot eyes, looking about the room, and then 
a momentary startled look came into his face. If 
I had not felt that this drunken conversation 
might reveal some useful information, I should 
have hurried both him and Sile out of the office 
at once. Bud soon started out on his own ac- 
count, muttering. 

When I shoot at my man, I git ’im.” 
Shortly, Skinner returned with Doctor Cassman. 

The wound is in the right side and arm, doc- 
tor,” said Sprague to Cassman. ‘‘ There seems 
to be little bleeding from the side, and I have tem- 

193 


N 


THE 


GANG 


porarily bandaged the arm. If I can be of any 
assistance to you, I shall be glad to render it.” 

“ I think we’d better clear the room,” said 
Skinner, rather hurriedly ; “ or can’t we take her 
home, doctor ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Cassman, “ two of you gen- 
tlemen take hold of each end of this couch, and 
we will take her home.” Gene started to help, 
when Skinner stopped him. 

“ No, Mr. Bradgate, you have had annoyance 
enough. Come, Bud ” (Bud, after leaving the 
room had stood about the door in the hall), 
come and help me. Mr. Conner, you will kindly 
help Doctor Cassman. We four can carry her 
down all right.” Conner was the clerk in Free- 
man’s store. It was clear that Skinner, for rea- 
sons of his own, desired to have the girl sur- 
rounded by his friends only when she regained 
consciousness. 

Had he been in the room while Bud was talk- 
ing, he might not have been so open in soliciting 
his assistance. The onlookers followed the pro- 
cession out into the hall and down the stairs, and 
Gene and I were alone. 

Bud McGuire fired that shot, and I believe 
Norman Skinner knew he was going to do it,” 
I said emphatically. Gene made no reply. 

“ I think,” I continued, some one should in- 
sist on getting to the house and hearing what she 
194 


THE 


WARNING 


has to say. If Skinner is at the bottom of this, 
he ought to be punished.’' 

No, no,” said Gene. We will leave what 
she has to say to her, to say when and to whom 

she wishes, if in God’s mercy she ” and the 

poor fellow could go no further. 


CHAPTER XIX 

THE BLOODHOUNDS 

G ene soon recovered himself, and we 
briefly discussed the situation. He was 
not even now conscious of his danger, 
his mind being entirely occupied with 
anxiety for the injured girl. He could not think 
of any one with a motive for such a deed, unless 
it were some enraged ligitant, nor would he 
entertain the thought that it was the outgrowth of 
his recent political exploits. 

‘‘ No one cares enough to want to kill one for 
that.” 

“ Suppose,” I said, to-night’s caucus means 
the defeat of Skinner’s strength not only for the 
delegateship, but ultimately, for the nomination 
again for treasurer. That would mean the un- 
covering of his official misdeeds. How much do 
you suppose Skinner would consider he had at 
stake? You must know that it means not only 
the losing of the office ; it may mean the peniten- 
tiary. With you removed from the situation, it 
would be clear sailing for him. If this crime has 
to be settled on anybody, Skinner expects that 
drunken McGuire to carry the blame.” 

196 


THE BLOODHOUNDS 


No; I shall not for a moment presume that 
Skinner, or any of his friends, or the principles 
that he represents, had anything to do with the 
disturbance.” 

“ As far as the public is concerned, of course 
you cannot,” I said ; but none of us knows what 
effect Miss Walton’s story will have on the situa- 
tion.” 

“ If she ever tells it, Phil ” 

At that instant we heard confusion on the side- 
walk below. It was the night watchman with two 
bloodhounds which the town kept for the tracking 
of fugitives. We had heard that the dogs would 
be taken out and placed on the track of the 
would-be assassin if a track could be scented. 
I went downstairs. Gene with me, and asked 
the watchman what, if anything, had been dis- 
covered. 

'' Why, I jest got the dogs out,” he said, “ and 
took ’em over to that stairway you told about, 
and they came right down the stairs the front 
way, and down that side of the street a little way, 
and then crossed to this side and came up here, 
and here they lost the scent.” 

'' Perhaps,” I suggested, they would take an- 
other track from the stairway — the one which 
the fellow who did the shooting took on going to 
the stairway instead of the track made when 
coming away after the shooting.” 


197 


THE 


GANG 


Firmly believing that McGuire was the fellow 
who had done the dirty deed, and that he had 
come from the place where he had fired the 
shot directly to the offices, it occurred to me that 
the dogs might get a scent of the track approach- 
ing the stairway. The night watchman did not 
think it would be of much use, but I prevailed 
upon him to take them back. 

A group which had gathered followed us across 
the street. Stairs led from the street and from 
the rear of the building to a landing at the top 
five or six feet wide. The night watchman took 
the dogs up the front stairs to the landing, as it 
seemed to me from the trace of the bullet it must 
have been fired from an elevation at least as high 
as that spot, which was directly opposite Gene’s 
office. Once or twice they turned back down 
the front way on the trail they had previously 
followed. Then they were taken to the other side 
of the landing. They struck a scent, and down 
the back stairway they went. We hurried after 
them, downstairs, out the alley to the street, when 
they turned northward away from the main part 
of town. They went north a block, then through 
the lumber yards, then crossed the railroad tracks 
into another alley, then followed this alley until 
they had come to the rear of Skinner’s house. 
Here they ran about in perplexity for a little 
while, then starting again, went on a hundred 
198 


THE BLOODHOUNDS 


feet farther until they reached a barn on Bill 
Black's premises. Here they stopped, and would 
go no farther. 

“ They’re on the wrong scent,” said the night 
watchman ; “ there ain’t anybody here. They 
probably struck one of Bill’s tracks coming from 
the printing office.” And he took the dogs and 
went home, saying as he went. 

We’ll find the rascal yet.” 

Had it not been for the belief that Miss Walton 
would make a statement that would clear up the 
question of who was the guilty party, or throw 
some light upon it, I should have insisted upon a 
continuation of the search. As for Gene, he 
seemed to have no interest in finding the culprit. 
I still felt strongly impressed with the idea that 
it was McGuire. The fact that the dogs had gone 
to Black’s barn did not, independently of any 
other facts, throw much light upon the question. 
I had no suspicion of Black’s having perpetrated 
the deed, and, moreover, I now recalled that 
when I went to Skinner’s house immediately after 
the shooting, I had met Black in company with 
a neighbor, a well-respected man, and that Black 
had asked me about the shooting, saying that he 
and his neighbor had heard a report of a gun. 
On our way back, as we passed the rear of Skin- 
ner’s house, lights could be seen flitting to and 
fro within. 


199 


THE 


GANG 


When we reached the stairway leading to our 
rooms, we sat down on the bottom step. Neither 
Gene nor I wanted to go up there just then. After 
a while he suggested that we walk down to Skin- 
ner’s house. Perhaps some one would be met 
from whom we could learn Miss Waltons con- 
dition without intruding. Before starting, I left 
Gene long enough to go over to a group of men 
near-by, and arrange with one of them to have 
the traces of the tragedy removed from the office 
immediately. I did not want Gene to see them 
again. 

The night was quite dark when we began our 
walk, but the big yellow moon was slowly lifting 
from out the level across the river off to the east. 
I thought of further possible danger to Gene, 
and spoke my thoughts. He would not consider 
the possibility. Stopping in front of Skinner’s 
house, we saw a number of townsmen. Some 
were standing in the yard, and some were on the 
walk in front. I stopped for a moment and spoke 
with John Stewart. 

‘'Have you heard from Miss Walton?” I 
asked. 

“ Why, Skinner was just out a few minutes 
ago, and said she had come to and told them 
how it all happened. She said from her win- 
dow she heard ’em talkin’ in the alley back of the 
house. One of ’em was pretty loud. Skinner 
200 


THE BLOODHOUNDS 


says it was probably a drunken man, and that the 
other one was tryin’ to make him behave and go 
home about his business; but, anyway, the loud- 
mouthed feller says, ^ I’ll git ’im an’ git ’im now 
too. Gene Bradgate don’t run all Scudderville. 
I’ll show ’im that! an’ if his lights ain’t out in 
his office an’ he shows up there, I’ll put his light 
out with this here gun,’ er something like that. 
And Skinner says that some other feller said 
somethin’, that he was prob’ly tryin’ to get the 
drunk feller to go home, an’ prob’ly didn’t think 
the feller would do any damage noway. But she, 
being kinder nervous, anyway, hurried on some 
clothes and run up to Bradgate’s office to tell 
him, and got there just as the feller shot. Of 
course, as Skinner says, if he hadn’t been drunk, 
he wouldn’t have shot when she stepped in. 
Skinner says as near as he can tell from what 
she says, it was some drunk chap that had a 
grudge against Bradgate here, an’ was talkin’ 
about ’im, and the other feller tried to quiet him 
an’ prob’ly didn’t think he’d do any damage no- 
how. She didn’t know any of the voices, but 
knows the shot came from the stairway across 
the office, for she saw the rifle barrel shine as 
the feller come up to the top of the stairway.” 

'' How is she? ” asked Gene rather impatiently, 
after this rambling story. 

'' Oh, she’s getting on all right. They sent for 

201 


THE 


GAN G 


Bohn to come up and help look for the bullet. 
They’re all in there now.” 

Just then some one came out of the front door. 
We turned into the yard, hoping for an oppor- 
tunity to get more definite information. It was 
the stranger, Saunders. He was standing on 
the porch looking out into the moonlight when 
we approached. 

“ How is Miss Walton ? ” I inquired. 

“ Oh, she is quite comfortable now,” he re- 
plied. They have made a search for the bul- 
let. It’s an ugly wound. The ball passed through 
the right arm between the shoulder and the elbow, 
and then into the side upward and backward. 
It did not enter the chest wall, but has cut around 
on the outside of the ribs and lodged beneath the 
skin over the shoulder-blade. Barring blood- 
poison, she will recover. She is quite composed 
now. This is Mr. Bradgate, I believe? Ruth 
was just inquiring if you had been injured.” 
And he stepped forward, extending his hand to 
Gene. ‘‘ I saw you at the caucus.” Turning to 
me, “ And this is Mr. Blair. Am I right ? ” 
You are,” I answered. This is Mr. Brad- 
gate, and my name is Blair.” 

I am very glad to know both of you,” he an- 
swered cordially. Then he continued in a lower 
tone, “ Ruth has told me of an experience in a 
snowstorm, and your part in it, Mr. Bradgate — 
202 


THE BLOODHOUNDS 


and Mr. Blair too,” he added as an afterthought 
of courtesy. I am glad to meet any friend of 
my cousin. Ruth has always been as a sister to 
me. I came to take her back to New York to be 
present at a little affair next month, in which I 
am somewhat interested. Poor girl! I shall 
be so disappointed not to have her with us at 
that time.” 

“You are a kinsman of Miss Walton?” I 
ventured, bound to know. 

“ Yes ; a double cousin. She spent several years 
of her life in my mother’s home after the death 
of her father and of mine. She has always 
seemed more like a sister than a cousin. This 
will be a serious shock to my mother; but,” ad- 
dressing Gene, clearly evincing that he had no 
thought of blaming him, “ we all hope this would- 
be assassin of yours will be brought to justice.” 

“ The blame was chiefly mine,” responded 
Gene. “ I should not have let her pass me. I 
should have prevented her from passing me.” 

“ Oh, you were not prepared, Mr. Bradgate, 
to appreciate the situation. No one would have 
expected you to keep her out.” 

“ I should not have permitted her to get into 
danger,” Gene repeated. 

“ Mr. Bradgate, I assure you, no one thinks 
of blaming you. She heard the talk in the alley 
through the open window, and gathered enough 

203 


THE 


GANG 


of it to know that some one was about to attempt 
your life by shooting you through the window in 
your office, and hastily went to warn you. Mr. 
Skinner thinks it was some drunken person. My 
cousin was not able to identify any of the voices. 
In fact, she distinguished the words of only one 
of them.” 

Our conversation continued in a desultory 
fashion for a while ; then, bidding him good-night, 
we resumed our stroll, turning homeward. The 
excitement occasioned by the shooting had sub- 
sided, and most of the townspeople who had come 
out to see and hear, had gone to their homes. 
The streets were silent again, save here and there 
the sound of a closing door of a returning house- 
holder, and occasionally too, of the shuffle and 
thump of distant footsteps on the board side- 
walks, of later ones homeward bound. Neither 
of us spoke till we reached the street leading to 
his office. 

Let’s not go up there,” Gene said. ** Let’s 
walk.” 

No one was on the street, but there was a light 
in the Van Zandt saloon, and the sound of voices 
within. Bud McGuire came out of the door as 
we went by. Our walk continued out on the 
country road. We had gone for some distance 
in silence when Gene suddenly halted, turned to 
me and said, 

204 


THE BLOODHOUNDS 


“ Phil, what made her put herself between me 
and the bullet ? ” 

I am not very well versed in Scripture — not so 
well as I should be — but I remembered a Golden 
Text I had learned in Sunday-school when a boy. 
It flashed upon my mind when he asked the ques- 
tion. I answered him by quoting it. 

‘ Greater love hath no man than this, that a 
man lay down his life for his friends.’ That prob- 
ably applies to women as well as to men.” 

‘‘ Do you really think that is what she meant ? ” 
“ I have no doubt of it at all.” And as I said 
it, I took him gently by the arm, and we walked 
on again. 

It’s not that.” 

‘‘ What else could it be ? ” 

“ Suppose your theory is correct,” he an- 
swered, “ that Skinner was cognizant of, or in 
some manner connected with the affair, and sup- 
pose she knew it, or had reason to suspect the 
fact — then, Phil, can you not see a reason for her 
trying to prevent a crime, which, if committed, 
would be the crime of the husband of her mother ? 
It may be that your Scripture applies, but it was 
for her mother’s husband that she did it, and not 
for me.” 

Possibly, possibly,” I repeated, grasping the 
reasonableness of this theory; but I recalled that 
look on her face as she turned to him after the 


205 


THE 


GANG 


shot was fired, the hand outstretched to him be- 
fore she fell, and said: 

No, Gene ; you’re mistaken.” 

It was for the sake of her mother’s hus- 
band,” he replied. 

He would not be convinced. A little later 
we turned back toward the town. 


20« 


CHAPTER XX 

BUD MCGUIRE’S REVELATIONS 

T he air was soft and the round moon 
floated high overhead, across the sea of 
hazy yellow liquid light which filled all 
space, from the cloudless sky far above 
down to the depths where the broad tranquil 
prairies lay. It was restful to look over the 
miles upon miles of tall grain and corn and 
grass, stretching away on every side, glinting in 
the moonlight. Here and there were farmhouses, 
which, with their surrounding groves of soft 
maple, cottonwood, and box-elder, stood up like 
motionless sentinels of the night, watching over 
the silent fields. 

We had not gone far on our returning way 
when we descried some one coming toward us. 
His movements were irregular and erratic. He 
veered from one side of the road to the other. 
In a moment I recognized the drunken swagger 
of Bud McGuire. Then I saw him reach into the 
side pocket of his coat and, the thing that he took 
out glistened. 

For God’s sake. Gene, that’s Bud McGuire 
again, and he has a pistol. You’d better get out 

207 


THE 


GANG 


of his way; he’s drunk and ugly enough to do 
damage ! ” 

Gene made no reply, but kept on walking to- 
ward McGuire, who was now staggering closer 
to us. As we came up, he leered at us in a 
drunken way: 

I guess I got jest as good a right to walk 
in thish here road as any smart young lawyer as 
thinks he owns the town.” 

There had been nothing on Gene’s part or 
mine to suggest possible interference with his 
right in the road. It was manifestly said out 
of his drunken desire to start a quarrel. 

We made no reply, but kept on. We were 
now only a few” feet from him, and he w^as stand- 
ing still, or as still as his state of intoxication 
would permit. 

‘‘ I’zh got a gun here, Mishter Lawyer,” he 
said, flourishing his pistol, an’ I want 3^e to 
un’ershtand that I c’n use it better’n — ^better’n 
that other feller could: ’sides, there ain’t any 
women here to protect ye. Ye’d better look out 

and not show off yer smartness here, or I’ll ” 

and he raised his pistol, pointing it at Gene, who 
was not more than ten feet from him. He w^as 
unsteadily bending his head to the right side, 
evidently trying to sight the weapon. 

I started for him with the intention of grab- 
bing the pistol; but, before I could reach him, 
208 



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BUD MCGUIRE’S REVELATIONS 


Gene had darted forward and, seizing McGuire’s 
arm, possessed himself of the weapon. McGuire 
made some resistance and struck at Gene, who, 
active as a cat, and a skilled boxer, easily warded 
off the blows. McGuire seemed disposed to make 
further trouble, and kept up a show of fight. 

Bud, behave yourself,” said Gene sharply ; 
for reply, the fellow made another pass at him. 

Now Gene grasped him by the collar with one 
hand, keeping off his harmless blows with the 
other, and shook him as a school-teacher might 
shake an unruly boy, till the cowed bully cried: 

Hold on, hold on — Mishter Bradgate, it ain’t 
no use bein’ so rough with a feller,” and limply 
gave up the struggle. 

Now, McGuire,” said Gene, my advice to 
you is, to go home and sober up. As for this 
pistol, you will get it when you are in condition 
safely to have it. You might hurt some one with 
it now. Come on with us ! ” 

He started humbly enough; but, in a moment, 
he stopped. 

“ Jes’ wait a minute, you fellers,” he said, 
“ I’ve got a little stuff here that the doctor says 
I’ve got to take. My stummick ain’t jes’ exactly 
right, ye know, an’ I have to take somep’n for it.” 
And he drew a bottle from his pocket, pulled the 
cork, and drank. 

Won’t ye have some, Mishter Bradgate? 

o 209 


THE 


GANG 


W’at ? don’t use it ? This other guy here, I s’pose, 
don’t care for it neither. He don’t fight like you 
and I does, does ’e Mishter Bradgate ? ” and he 
drank a little more. 

“ You’re alri’, Mishter Bradgate. When I’m 
licked, I’m licked, you un’erstan’? When I’m 
licked, I’m 1-i-c-k-e-d, an’ I don’t hold no grudge 
jes’ cause some feller licked me. My stummick 
ain’t jes’ right er I’d have done sump’n to ye. 
Better have a little, Mishter Bradgate. You’re 
alri’ — hie — Mishter Bradgate — yes, I’ve had 
enough o’ the medicine. Now I’ll come along ’ith 
ye. Say! Jes’ wait a minute, Mishter Bradgate, 
till I thump this guy that’s with ye. Let ’im alone, 
d’ye say? Well, if ye say so, I s’pose it has to 
go your way. You’re — alri’ — Mishter Bradgate 
— I’m cornin’.” 

He staggered along with us, getting drunker 
every moment. Say, Mishter Bradgate, I’d 
like to shpeak with ye a minute.” He turned to 
me and said, You ain’t in this, you ain’t. You 
can’t fight, you can’t.” 

Staggering close to Gene, he said in a loud, 
hoarse whisper, I jes’ want to tell ye, Mishter 
Bradgate — now don’t say nothin’ ’bout it to no- 
body — don’t ye tell Skinner I told ye, nor Black, 
nor nobody — I don’t want nobody but jes’ you, 
Mishter Bradgate, to know nothin’ ’bout it; but 
I’ll tell ye how ’t is. ’T wa’n’t me that was hurtin’ 
210 


BUD MCGUIRE’S REVELATIONS 


that poor girl to-night with that gun ; ’t wa’n’t me 
’t all. 'T ain’t the feller that pulls the trigger 
half so much as the feller that pays ’im an’ says 
to ’im, ‘ Say, Bud, you do this an’ I’ll give ye 
seventy-five dollars.’ ’T ain’t the feller that pulls 
the trigger half ’s much as ’t is the feller that 
says that, is it, Mishter Bradgate ? But the feller 
ought to pay me seventy-five dollars jes’ the same, 
hadn’t he, Mishter Bradgate ? ” 

By this time he had forgotten me, and was 
rattling on in his usual voice. 

“ And I didn’t want no fuss with ye out here 
to-night, sure’s you’re alive, Mishter Bradgate, 
I didn’t; but if ’nother feller says to ye, ‘ You go 
an’ pick a fuss, will ye, an’ I’ll give ye fifty dol- 
lars more,’ ye’d do it, wouldn’t ye? Any man 
would, Mishter Bradgate ; any man would, would- 
n’t he? ’N I picked up a fuss with ye, didn’t I, 
Mishter Bradgate? Sure I did! I picked up a 
fuss with ye ; an’ they’ve got to pay me my money, 
ain’t they, Mishter Bradgate ? Say, Mishter Brad- 
gate, you’s a lawyer, an’ I want ye to sue ’em 
for me. But don’t ye tell Skinner. 

‘‘ But say, lemme tell ye sump’n, Mishter 
Bradgate. You’re alri’, ’n I’m alri’, Mishter 
Bradgate — Mishter Bradgate, ain’t I? ’F course 
I be. But lemme tell ye sump’n fer the good o’ 
the order, ye know; you un’erstan’, jes’ fer the 
good o’ the order ” — and again his voice dropped 

21t 


THE 


GANG 


to a hoarse whisper : ‘‘ Some fellers has it in 
fer ye, Mishter Bradgate; that’s a fact; an’ ye’d 
better watch out a little or they might — now 
ye understands me — they might do ye some dirt. 
But don’t ye tell Skinner or Black nothin’ ’bout it. 

“Ye ain’t got nothin’ ’gainst me, have ye, 
Mishter Bradgate ? ” and again he was talking 
loudly, “ ye ain’t got nothin’ ’gainst me, have ye ? 
No use arrestin’ a feller like me what’s got a bad 
stummick, and jes’ took sump’n for it. I’d better 
go home to my wife and babies. I’ve got an 
awful nice wife, Mishter Bradgate, an’ I’m goin’ 
to quit takin this stummick medicine; she don’t 
want me to take it.” And he broke into a drunken 
snivel. 

“ I’d do anything for her, Mishter Bradgate, 
wouldn’t I? Ye know I would. I ain’t done 
nothin’, have I, Mishter Bradgate? The judge 
nor nobody ain’t got nothin’ agin me, have they, 
Mishter Bradgate? They won’t none of ’em 
want me to the courthouse, will they, Mishter 
Bradgate ? ” 

He kept up his drunken twaddle until we 
reached his house, where we left him. I felt, and 
so remarked to Gene, that we should have him 
placed under arrest. 

“ No,” he said, “ we’ll keep this matter, and 
what Bud has said, to ourselves for the present.” 
He did, however, retain McGuire’s pistol. 

212 


BUD MCGUIRE’S REVELATIONS 


We then went to our rooms. In my fitful sleep 
I dreamed that Skinner was directing Black to 
load McGuire into a huge gun. After it was 
done, Skinner ran swiftly away. Then Black 
aimed the gun at Genes office window and pulled 
the trigger. The gun went off and McGuire 
came toward us, flying through the air, his red, 
bloodshot eyes glaring at us as he came. I 
awakened as he was crashing through the win- 
dow-pane. 

The next day I found the general impression to 
be that some angry litigant, crazed by drink 
perhaps, had fired the shot. 

No one appeared who answered for the one 
whom, according to rumor. Miss Walton had 
heard trying to dissuade the intoxicated man 
from his purpose. But that was explained by 
the hypothesis that it was some friend of the cul- 
prit who did not want to expose him. Whispers, 
indeed, were heard against McGuire, and it was 
suggested to Gene by several persons that Mc- 
Guire should be arrested. Skinner spoke of it to 
him once. 

'' For my part,’’ said Gene in reply, “ I prefer 
that no arrests be made at this time.” 

I thought Skinner winced a little at this. Gene 
seemed desirous of having the matter pass out of 
mind as soon as possible, and was apparently 
satisfied with the current explanation that the 

213 


THE 


GANG 


shooting was the act of some drunken, or irre- 
sponsible person. 

That Miss Walton had voluntarily placed her- 
self in the bullet’s path was not given to the public. 
It was generally understood that while she had 
gone to Gene’s office to warn him, it was en- 
tirely on account of poor marksmanship that she, 
instead of Gene, had been struck. 


214 


CHAPTER XXI 

AN’S ADVICE 

I N the afternoon of the day following the 
shooting An came into town. Mattie was 
with him. I met him on the street, and told 
him in confidence all that I knew, thinking 
that he might be able to assist me in inducing 
Gene to take better care of himself, and later he 
and Mattie came up to the office. 

What have they been try in’ on ye, boy ? ” 
he asked Gene, after he had seated himself in the 
big office armchair, and taken his little grand- 
daughter on his lap. 

Oh, nothing of much consequence, I guess,” 
Gene responded. 

Just merely trying to kill him, that’s all,” I 
remarked. 

“ Sometimes, when they miss ’em once, they 
try ’em again. You want to be on yer guard and 
sorter keep yer eye peeled for ’em, whoever ’t is. 
You’ve been puttin’ up a good fight here, boy; 
but you don’t want to let ’em wind ye up,” said 
An significantly. 

Gene looked at him, and understood that I 
had told him all about it. 


215 


THE 


GANG 


Oh, I don’t expect any more trouble,” said 
he; '' they’ll not try it again.” 

‘‘ Gene,” said An, “ you’re cleanin’ up a mighty 
bad man, and he’s got some bad ones under him. 
’T ain’t always goin’ to be so, but we’ve had ’em 
here ever since I’ve been in the place. He’s run 
things to suit himself, sometimes by smoothness, 
and sometimes by bulldozing and threatening; 
and I rather think that some of the threats have 
been carried out afore now. Of course, shootin’ 
a man is a worse thing here now than it was years 
ago, but ’t ain’t what it is in the older States yet. 

'' Now, Gene, I ain’t trying to dissuade ye 
from fightin’ ’em because ’t is dangerous; but 
don’t be foolish and careless about it, an’ don’t 
stand around jes’ to be shot at simply because 
you ain’t afraid, an’ because you think you’ve got 
a right to. There ain’t no sense in that. I 
wouldn’t ask ye to quit ’em, nor stop the fight, 
for I don’t want ye to, an’ ye wouldn’t do it if I 
did. You’re lickin’ ’em right, and I want to 
see ye clean ’em all out, an’ ye will; an’ ye’ll be 
the biggest man in Scudder County when ye do it, 
an’ ye ought to be. I know ye won’t quit ’em, 
for ye ain’t the quittin’ kind. 

‘‘ I’ve been talkin’ with this Pennamite a little, 
an I think he’s part right, if he does come from 
Pennsylvania — not from York State like he’d 
ought to, Ye’ve got to watch, an’ watch close, 
216 


A N » S 


ADVICE 


Somethin’ else will happen, Gene, an’ ye want 
to look out an’ take care o’ yourself. Ye owe it 
to yourself, an’ to your friends, an’ to the com- 
munity.” 

While we had been talking, little Mattie, who 
had been listening attentively, slid down from her 
grandfather’s knees and edged her way to where 
Gene sat. She sidled up to him and placed her 
elbows on his knees, resting her chin in her 
chubby little hands. Thus she stood looking up 
into his face, her big blue eyes softened by her 
long lashes. Gene was looking down at her and 
half smiling as he listened to An’s talk. After 
he had ceased, she said : 

‘‘Is them mans goin’ to hurt my B’adgate?” 
She had gathered the sense of the conversation. 

“ Oh, I guess not, Mattie. We won’t let them, 
will we ? ” laughingly answered Gene, as he lifted 
her into his lap. 

“ Dey’s naughty bad mans to do ’at way,” she 
said ; “ me don’t want ’em to do ’at,” and she 
nestled up against him. “ You come to my house, 
and Dranpa An won’t let ’em hurt you.” 

An and I laughed at her remark, but Gene 
appreciated it too keenly to treat it lightly. 
For reply, he looked down into the little pink 
face framed by the curly brown hair, and into the 
big soft eyes that were looking up into his; but 
he did not laugh. 


217 


THE 


GANG 


“ Come on, Mattie, we must go home now,” 
said An. We’ve stopped long enough, this 
time.” 

'' Just a moment, Mattie,” said Gene, and he 
reached into a little drawer in his desk and took 
out a paper sack half-filled with candies, which 
he handed her. She took the package demurely, 
saying : 

Thank you.” 

‘‘ Good-bye, Mattie.” 

The little, fluffy, pink-faced, pinky-clad creature 
pattered out of the room, her soft hand nestling 
in her grandfather’s great broad, hardened one. 
She was a mere mite of a thing, and looked all 
the smaller beside her tall, robust, bronze-faced 
companion. He appeared the more huge too, for 
being beside her. 

As they crossed the threshold in going out of 
the door, she turned and said: 

‘‘ Good asternoon.” 

Good-bye,” we both replied. Then the two 
went down the stairway, the one with a heavy 
tramp, tramp; the other with a soft pat, pat, 
patter. 


218 


CHAPTER XXn 

THE COUNTY CONVENTION 

0 ,N Thursday we got reports from the 
Wednesday night township caucuses. In 
all the precincts our forces had con- 
quered, and without opposition. Skin- 
ner had called the fight off in the other townships 
for the same reason, no doubt, that he stopped 
it in Scudder. He saw that he would be whipped, 
and took this method of dodging a square meet- 
ing with defeat. Above all things, he wanted re- 
election as county treasurer. His books were in 
such condition that it was dangerous to have some 
one else succeed him. He was saving his forces 
for that fight. So he gave out the impression 
that neither he nor Baker wanted a delegateship, 
and had not from the first. Of course, Gene 
could have reported generally Freeman’s appeal 
in their behalf, but he wisely preferred not to 
do so, as it is better to dispute the word of an 
opponent with facts than with your own words. 

When the convention was called on Saturday 
afternoon, the election of such men as Gene’s 
friends desired was easily accomplished. The 
township chairmen, who made up the county cen- 

219 


THE 


GANG 


tral committee, were of the same political kind, 
and Merrill was made -county chairman. Thus 
the county organization was in their hands. 

Only one incident of the convention is worth 
mentioning. The committee on nomination of 
delegates came in with its report. In accordance 
with Gene’s emphatic request that he be not named 
on any of the delegations, the committee had re- 
frained from including his name in the list. 
When the report had been read, Frank Currie, 
who was himself on the list, and who was a zeal- 
ous friend and admirer of Gene, arose and said : 

“ Mr. Chairman, and gentlemen of this con- 
vention: I think of all men in this county who 
should go to the State convention to represent 
Scudder County as a delegate; of all men who 
should, and can successfully, represent the 
honest and sturdy Republicans of Scudder 
County; of all men whom the best sentiment of 
the Republican party of this county would wish 
to send to represent it in the State convention, 
were the voters thereof here to-day en masse to 
represent themselves ; of all these men, gentlemen, 
I say that man has not been recommended by this 
committee. I move, Mr. Chairman, as an amend- 
ment to this nominating committee’s report, that 
the name of Frank Currie be taken therefrom and 
that placed in its stead be the name of the man 
who has led, and is now leading, the honest Re- 
220 


THE COUNTY CONVENTION 


publicans of this county in an honest and suc- 
cessful fight against cliquism and corruption and 
official incompetency — the man who, I believe, 
will see other victories greater than this of to-day 
— I move that in place of the name of Frank 
Currie there be substituted in the report the name 
of Eugene Bradgate.” 

A dozen men, regardless of Gene’s wishes, were 
up to second Currie’s amendment, while half 
of the members of the committee were trying to 
acknowledge the acceptance of it. But the great 
burst of applause prevented any particular indi- 
vidual from being heard above the others. After 
a moment of useless effort, all who had tried to 
get the floor, gave it up and joined in the hand- 
clapping and cheers. 

At length, in a slight break in the applause, 
somebody managed to get in the second. Before 
it could be put to vote. Gene, who was sitting in 
the back of the room among the spectators, was 
on his feet. When it was noticed that he wished 
to speak, quiet was instantly restored. 

“ Mr. Chairman and gentlemen,” he began, a 
slight shaking in his voice, “ with your consent, 
not being a member of your body, I wish the 
privilege of a word. While I appreciate the kind, 
but undeserved commendation from Mr. Currie, 
and the manner in which you have received his 
utterances, I wish to say that I cannot accept a 

221 


THE 


GANG 


place on the State delegation. Without giving 
any reasons other than my conviction that what- 
ever service I can render the community can better 
be given as a citizen in the ranks, in common with 
other citizens and voters who desire, above all, the 
public good, I ask you, my friends, fully believ- 
ing that you will not disregard my request, to 
vote down the amendment and leave the report 
as presented by your committee.” 

Then he sat down. As there was no doubt- 
ing his sincerity, the house voted down the amend- 
ment and approved the committee’s report. Be- 
fore he had spoken, many were well aware of 
Gene’s real reason for refusing, and his attitude 
was beginning to be understood. He was in- 
terested in politics from no personal motive, and 
he deemed it wise to avoid even the appearance 
of seeking honor or position for himself lest his 
efforts be charged to selfishness. 

The next week’s issue of the “ Graphic ” con- 
tained three rather interesting items. The fol- 
lowing is quoted from them: 


The Scudder Township Republican caucus, held in the 
City Hall last Wednesday evening, passed off harmoni- 
ously. One seditious would-be politician sought to start a 
disturbance prior to the caucus by attempting to create 
feeling against Mr. Skinner and Mr. Baker in reference 
to what he chose to style their "controversy” for dele- 
gateships. His efforts against both of these parties were, 
222 


THE COUNTY CONVENTION 


of course, useless, as they are too well established in their 
deserved strength with the Republicans of this township 
and county to be at all annoyed by the barks of a puppet 
politician. Mr. Skinner, in a nicely worded speech, told 
his friends and the friends of Mr. Baker at the caucus 
that it would be impossible for either of them to attend 
either the State or congressional convention, for Mr. 
Skinner must be in New York to attend the marriage 
ceremony of a nephew, and Mr. Baker had been called to 
Indiana to the bedside of a dying brother, where he will 
soon go. 

Mr. Skinner thanked those present for their unques- 
tioned willingness to again honor him and Mr. Baker 
with their support; but, under the circumstances, neither 
of them could accept. Mr. Skinner then moved the elec- 
tion of the delegates from the township to the county 
convention as shown below, and Mr. Baker, in a few well- 
chosen words, seconded Mr. Skinner’s remarks and motion. 


The following stood in the local column without 
heading. It was, perhaps, not of sufficient im- 
portance to entitle it to an independent position 
in the paper. But the account of an attempted 
murder, especially in view of Black’s natural 
tendency to sensationalism, might have been 
expected to occupy a more conspicuous place than 
he gave it : 

Late last Wednesday night, Miss Ruth Walton heard 
persons talking in the rear of her father’s house. One of 
them, she judged from the loudness of his tone, was in- 
toxicated. She heard him make some remark with refer- 
ence to shooting Attorney Bradgate through the window 

223 


GANG 


THE 


of his office. Some one with him was trying to dissuade 
the drunken man from his purpose. Notwithstanding the 
persuasion, he started, she presumed, for Bradgate’s office. 
No one else being up in the house, she ran hastily to the 
office, feeling it her duty to warn Bradgate of his danger. 
Reaching there, she told the lawyer, who was in the front 
room, of the possible attack upon him. While there, and 
a moment or two after her arrival, a shot was fired 
into the room, probably from the stairway between the 
“Graphic” office and Van Zandt’s saloon. While the 
attorney managed to escape unhurt, the young lady, not 
being so skilful in getting behind safe protection, was 
struck by the bullet in the right arm and side. She is 
doing well, however, under the efficient care of Doctors 
Cassman and Bohn, and it is believed she will soon be 
out again. While we have seen but little drunkenness in 
our streets, we cannot be too careful about having intoxi- 
cated persons promptly taken care of. 

The third article was under the heading, “ Re- 
publican County Convention,” and was in part 
as follows: 

The Republican County Convention of Scudder County 
was held at the courthouse Saturday afternoon. Every 
township was represented. The house was called to order 
promptly at two o’clock, and proceeded at once to busi- 
ness. Doctor Sprague, of this city, was elected temporary 
chairman, and Carl Stearns, cashier of the Scudder County 
Savings Bank, was made temporary secretary. Later the 
temporary organization was made permanent. (Then fol- 
lowed the list of delegates elected.) 

The prevailing characteristic of the meeting was har- 
mony. One quite amusing episode, however, occurred. A 

224 


THE COUNTY CONVENTION 


certain lawyer of this town has been quite anxious to get 
on one of the delegations, but when the report of the 
nominating committee came in of course his name did not 
appear. Our genial and humorous friend, Mr. Frank 
Currie, from Lincoln Township, seeing the opportunity 
for perpetrating a pleasant little joke, arose, and in an 
ingenious speech, full of the wittiest sarcasm, moved the 
substitution in the report of the committee of the name 
of this certain lawyer for his own. It was better than a 
circus to see Frank spread himself with eloquence in his 
mock speech to carry out the joke. The house, catching 
the spirit of the joke, proceeded to go wild. Then, as 
a finishing touch to the situation, already intensely funny, 
the said lawyer, who was in the room, but of course not a 
delegate, in an apparent effort to ape Mr. Skinner at the 
township caucus when his friends wanted to send him to 
the congressional convention, and not being sufficiently 
keen-witted to see that it was all a farce, made what he 
evidently considered a very eloquent speech of declination. 
He had not been elected yet, but the convention accepted 
with all due seriousnesss his refusal, and so our legal 
light will continue to shine from the undisturbed quiet 
of his unfrequented office, without loss of time in attending 
any future political gatherings. 


CHAPTER XXm 

SCUDDERV1LL£*S GLORIOUS FOURTH 

A FORTNIGHT had passed since the 
county convention. Miss Walton had so 
far recovered as to be up and about the 
house. But it was not deemed advisable 
for her to go East with her cousin, and Mr. 
Saunders had gone without her. The only inci- 
dent of special significance during those days was 
an interview in which Black sought to draw from 
me information as to Gene’s probable course in 
reference to the political controversy with Skin- 
ner. Failing in this, he finally said desperately, 
that he had hoped Bradgate had taken a hint of 
the real state of things, and in the interest of his 
own safety had quietly and prudently dropped out 
of the fight. 

I knew what Gene would say were such a 
suggestion offered to him, and so I answered 
frankly : 

Mr. Black, I am not authorized to make any 
statement to you as to his future conduct, but I 
know him well enough to say this on my own 
authority; that his course will not likely be con- 
trolled by any consideration for his personal safety 


SCUDDERVILLE’S FOURTH 


or of threats against him.” Then I thought I 
would “ bluff ” him a little. “ I think I under- 
stand the meaning of your remarks, and I can 
safely promise that the next time an attempt is 
made to do him violence, the cowards who hire 
it done will be unmasked.” 

“ Oh, it’s foolish for him to take any such posi- 
tion as that,” Black protested; “ you ought to get 
him away from trouble. You know what strong 
friends Skinner has, and they will do almost any- 
thing before they will see him beaten. You’d 
better coax him out of it.” 

‘‘ No; I think I’ll let him stay in,” I answered 
rather lightly, ‘‘ he seems to enjoy trouble; I think 
I’ll let him alone.” 

** Well, you’ll regret it, Mr. Blair, and you will 
both of you regret it; but as you want trouble, I’ll 
tell you, when you want trouble with Norm Skin- 
ner you can have it, and when you get through 
with it, some of you may wish you had not been 
in it.” 

‘‘ I know it’s going to be something dreadful. 
Black,” I said facetiously, “ but we’ll have to take 
it. What’s the specialty — swords, cutlasses, 
dirks, daggers, Winchesters, Colt’s revolvers, or 
Gatling guns ? ” 

‘‘ This ain’t going to be so funny before you 
get through with it,” he snapped, as he walked 
away. 


227 


THE 


GANG 


I reported this conversation to Gene, con- 
cluding with the remark: 

There’s trouble ahead, old man.” 

‘‘Would you have me run away?” he asked. 

“ No ; but I would have you exercise more 
care.” 

“ Well, we’ll try to take care of the trouble as 
it comes along,” he answered soberly, and then 
changed the subject abruptly. 

“ By the way, the members of the Fourth of 
July Committee have done a most praiseworthy 
thing — a thing which ought forever to enshrine 
them in the hearts of the good people of Scudder 
County. I suppose you have heard of it? ” 

“ No,” I answered, “ not being a frequent mixer 
with the lower orders, such as officials and public 
committees, I have not heard; but don’t tell me 
they have asked you to make a Fourth of July 
oration! We’ll not wait to have ’em indicted. 
We’ll hang ’em at once.” 

“ Wait a moment, my dear Philip. They have 
invited you to sing! ” 

We sat gazing at each other in mock amaze- 
ment, then had a long frivolous argument over 
the sanity, or otherwise, of the committee. 

But the inviting of Gene to make the principal 
address of the Fourth of July “ celebration ” 
carried with it considerable significance. It was 
an acknowledgment of his popularity, and an op- 
228 


SCUDDERVILLE’S FOURTH 


portunity for further advantage to him and to the 
principles he represented. 

Nowhere is the nation’s birthday celebrated 
with more energy than in the prairie towns. The 
warlike associations of the day fit well into the 
Western mind. Business men in Scudderville and 
neighboring farmers had subscribed liberally to 
the ‘‘ Celebration Fund.” Great preparations 
had been made for the day. There were bands 
and band-wagons, horse races and foot races, sack 
races and potato races, fat-men’s races and lean- 
men’s races, farmers’ and tradesmen’s parades 
and callithumpians,” the greased pig to be 
caught, the greased pole to be climbed; there 
was the singing, the reading of the Declaration 
of Independence, and the oration of the day. At 
night there were the fireworks and the public 
dance. 

When the day came, everything and everybody 
was ready. The stands and booths for ice-cream 
and lemonade were in place; the man with the 
target rifles was there; so was the fellow with 
the rack of canes, an armful of rings, and a loud, 
mouthy voice that seemed never to tire with its 
endless round of “ EVERY time you ring a cane 
you GET a cane.” There was the noisy chap 
with the balloons to sell, always tagged up and 
down the street like the piper, by a train of small 
boys; and the man that makes the cream candy 

229 


THE 


GANG 


‘‘ right before your eyes,” who hooks one end of 
a great white rope of candy on a spike on a tele- 
graph pole and, seizing the other end, he flings 
it about his head and pulls it and twists it, enter- 
taining the bystanders by his continuous talking 
and rapid gyrations. The sport ” with the for- 
tune wheel was also ready, as was he with the 
shell game, soft-handed and deft ; the two-headed 
calf had come to town, the animal housed in a 
great wagon, on the outside of which was painted 
a portrait of the aforesaid calf, surely quite as 
wonderful as the calf itself could possibly be; 
the merry-go-round, with its round of tuneless 
tunes that haunted you until you dreamed about 
them, had come — everything and everybody to 
make a Fourth of July. I was awakened at about 
three seconds past midnight by the tremendous 
report from an old cannon which Black had got- 
ten somewhere. 

At intervals of about ten minutes that cannon 
went off from that time on until sunrise. The 
reason that it did not continue throughout the day 
was that it exploded, doing no damage worth 
mentioning, however, and some good — it killed 
the man who began the disturbance. An old 
anvil from the blacksmith’s shop took its place, 
the surviving disturbers pouring powder into the 
hole in the anvil, then plugging up the hole, 
touching the powder off with a fuse. 

230 


SCUDDERVILLE’S FOURTH 


By sunrise, all the small boys in town and many 
more than one would ever suppose could, under 
normal conditions, belong to four towns the size 
of Scudderville, were out on the street. Be- 
sides these, there were many boys not small, 
each, of course, looking for some means of ma- 
king more noise than all the others put together, 
and usually successful in the search. 

The country people began coming in soon after 
daylight, and they kept coming. The day was 
fair and comfortable, and as I looked out of the 
office window into the open country beyond the 
town, I could see the teams plodding in, half 
hidden by the corn, now grown to a third of its 
height. They came in one-seated buggies, two- 
seated buggies, and three-seated buggies. They 
came packed in lumber wagons. There were the 
father of the family and the mother, and the 
grown-up Tom and the over-grown Julia, and 
half-grown Sam and the starting-to-grow Tillie, 
and Daisy, and Frank, and the hired man with the 
red necktie, and two of the neighbors’ daughters 
in white dresses, who giggled every time the hired 
man opened his mouth — all tumbled into the lum- 
ber wagon, people, dinner, baskets, and all, with 
boards across for seats. 

They came on foot and on horseback; young 
men and young women, with their faces reddened 
partly by the sun and partly by their blushes ; tall 

281 


THE 


GANG 


men with little, short wives; women with babies 
and without babies ; tired babies that cried all the 
time, and tired babies that cried only part of 
the time; people who talked loudly and people 
who were as mum as clams. There were Ger- 
mans, Methodists, New Yorkers, Democrats, 
Swedes, Republicans, Catholics, Prohibitionists, 
Pennsylvanians, Irishmen ; men who followed 
Skinner, and men who believed in Bradgate. 
They were all coming to the Fourth of July. It 
seemed, by ten o’clock that they must all be here, 
for one could hardly make his way along the 
plank sidewalk in front of the stores because of 
the mass of them. The courthouse square was 
full of them; so were the streets. Every place 
where people could get was full of a surging, 
swaying crowd, but still they came, and they kept 
on coming. 

The literary exercises ” were to be given in 
a grove across the railroad track near the river. 
It was a natural grove of box-elder and oak. 
The box-elders were small, but the oaks, though 
few, were fine old gnarly specimens. Great 
stumps told of the fine walnuts that had once 
been here, as well as of enterprising dealers in 
walnut lumber, who had no right to them, but 
had seized them, notwithstanding. A large plat- 
form had been erected. 

At ten o’clock the members of the local Grand 

232 


SCUDDERVILLE’S FOURTH 


Army Post gathered in a column of fours in front 
of their hall. The Women’s Relief Corps fell in 
behind them, and then a number of other civic 
organizations. At the head of the procession 
marched the Scudderville Band, blowing and rat- 
tling vigorously; next, in a carriage, rode the 
chairman of the committee, a clergyman, and 
Gene. Behind them, in carriages also, were other 
participants in the programme, a number of chil- 
dren who were to render emblematic pieces,” 
the young woman who was to read the Declara- 
tion of Independence, and the male quartet, of 
which I had the honor to be a member. In this 
form we went to the grove, a half-dozen tribu- 
taries, many-hued streams of humanity, pouring 
into the main current behind us from the streets 
and sidewalks. 

The exercises began with the usual preliminary 
confusion. Everybody on such occasions is won- 
dering why somebody has not done something 
and does not do something, and likewise every- 
body does not do anything except to wonder why 
something is not done. ^ 

After a time, however, the audience became 
pretty well settled for an outdoor crowd made up 
of nervous babies and more nervous mothers; 
small boys with firecrackers and other small boys 
with firecrackers to get; old men who could not 
hear and young men who did not want to hear ; 

233 


THE 


GANG 


but when the time set down for ‘‘ the oration ” 
arrived, they were in fairly good order. 

I felt a little uneasy about Gene. My im- 
pression was that his audience would desire light 
entertainment, and I feared he could not give it. 
His college debates and orations were always 
logical, and delivered with a remarkably convin- 
cing earnestness; but would his mixed, restless 
Fourth of July crowd listen to that kind of a 
speech ? 

He had prepared this address with much care, 
considering the short time allotted him. He had 
written it entirely, and had practically committed 
it to memory. 

Shortly after we reached the stage I saw Miss 
Walton for the first time since her injury, sitting 
among the people, or rather at one side, in a 
rocker. Her arm hung motionless in a sling. 
She was quite pale, and seemed a little nerv- 
ous. After Gene had taken his seat, he glanced 
over the assemblage. When his face turned to- 
ward her, his look tarried a moment. She was 
then examining her glove with an all-absorbing 
interest. Gloves often need such close, careful 
scrutiny. The best of us are liars, sometimes, and 
sometimes we are at our best when 'we are trying 
to lie. 

When the chairman arose to announce the ad- 
dress, Gene was swallowing nervously. Then his 

234 


SCUDDERVILLE’S FOURTH 


thin lips closed tightly, and, let the audience take 
the address as they would, he was master of him- 
self. He would give them the best there was 
in him. 

Miss Walton was having serious difficulty in 
disposing of her handkerchief. In fact for a 
few moments it seemed as though she would need 
help. 

After his introduction, Gene rose slowly and 
walked to the front of the stage. He began with 
a little tremor in his voice. He was a nervous 
man, but ruled himself with an iron hand. In a 
moment the people were with him. There is, 
after all, little difference in audiences. They will 
all hearken to a man with a message. Gene had a 
message. He was delivering it to convince his 
hearers of its truthfulness, and not to impress 
them with himself. His words came with in- 
creasing force and fervor, feeling the stimulus 
of the sympathy of the audience. 

Miss Walton was sitting perfectly still now. 
Her nervousness had passed. Her gloves and 
handkerchief were all right. Her head was 
slightly bowed and her eyes upturned toward the 
speaker, and there was a flush on her cheeks. 

Genes stream of thought was continuous and 
rapid, and gave no opportunity for applause. 
But, after he had finished, there was no uncer- 
tainty in the demonstration of approval. He had 

235 


THE 


GANG 


made himself understood, and his hearers would 
go out to do some of the things he had told them 
they ought to do. 

The programme over, the people dispersed. A 
great many of them pressed up to the speaker’s 
platform to congratulate Gene. Among the last 
of these were Mrs. Skinner and Miss Walton. 
Gene and I had just stepped down off the plat- 
form as they came along. Mrs. Skinner re- 
marked in a gracious way: 

'' I am sure, Mr. Bradgate, that you know 
we have all deeply enjoyed your address. I 
sincerely hope Scudder County will do as you 
say.” And she extended her hand to him. Miss 
Walton said nothing. She merely shooks hands 
with Gene, and passed on after her mother. 

No; there was something else said quickly and 
without words. It was when she reached out her 
left hand and he took it and their eyes met. Per- 
haps neither of them understood what the other 
said, yet both spoke plainly. 


286 


CHAPTER XXIV 

AROUND THE THRASHING MACHINE 

I T is August. The hum of the harvesters has 
ceased. Instead of swaying grain, there are 
broad fields of long shock-rows of the 
bound harvest, looking like the silent camps 
of mighty armies. There are the long avenues 
crowded close on either side with rows of tents. 
Here and there, like assembly tents, the cone- 
shaped stacks tower high. Around these, the 
shocks having been gathered, the stubble field is 
smooth, clean swept, and bare. 

Again, as you drive along the highway the 
fields of shocks remind you of great cities. You 
see in the midst what appears to be a factory, and 
you hear the whir of machinery. The smoke rises 
in thick black clouds from it and floats off on the 
wind. But, looking closer, your factory becomes 
a thrashing machine, with busy men pouring into 
its hungry mouth bundle after bundle of dry 
grain. The patient teams, ten or twelve of them, 
hitched to the sweeps of the “ power,” are go- 
ing round and round on their tedious, monot- 
onous journey. The smoke that you saw is the 
dust from the separator. In these later years 

237 


THE 


GANG 


there is the smoke in reality, for horse-power 
has been supplanted by steam. A stream of straw 
and chaff and dust shoots from the “ carrier.'' 
Getting nearer, you see the narrow, golden cur- 
rent of wheat as it trickles down from the “ ele- 
vator " into the tight, strong wagon-box. 

Everywhere are busy men enveloped in the 
dust and noise, each intent upon his part of the 
task. There is one man who seems to be every- 
where, now on the ground, now on the feeder’s 
platform, now on top of the separator, on the 
ground again; he disappears in the dust beneath 
the straw carrier; he emerges again, and after 
a short time lifts an arm and waves to the driver, 
who sits on the power ” encouraging the tired 
horses with a long whip as they tread — tread — 
tread around. The driver, seeing the waving 
arm, seizes the brake with one hand, lays the 
long stock of his whip gently in front of one 
of the teams, and calls out a long, drawling 
Who-o-a ! " The horses come to a standstill. 
The firm and steady hum becomes a looser and 
less rhythmic sound — more of a clang and rattle. 
The men and boys at their various posts of duty 
suspend activities, and in a moment the machinery 
and men are still. 

The first silence is almost painful. But soon 
you forget that impression, your attention being 
drawn by the waggish remark of some genial, 

238 


THE THRASHING MACHINE 


funny lad, who, while he has been working with 
his hands busily enough, has also been working 
out with his brain a good-humored witticism, pun- 
gent and keen, ready to thrust at some fellow- 
worker, with the ‘‘ shut-down.” 

It is hard, hot, dusty, eye-blearing work to 
thrash. But it is about the thrashing machine, 
and the frequent gatherings of the neighbors 
which it occasions, that much of the social life 
of the West centers. Politics gets its share of 
attention here too. Candidates and questions are 
warmly discussed. 

Among the farmers there seemed to have 
grown a feeling that a crisis was imminent in 
county affairs. The Skinner and Bradgate con- 
troversy was now a matter of common knowl- 
edge. Their struggle over the mayorship and the 
delegateship and over the county organization 
was canvassed by many a thrashing-machine 
crowd. The motive behind Bradgate’s movement 
was becoming well understood. 

Merrill had called the next county convention 
— the body which would nominate candidates for 
county offices — to meet early in September. So 
the battle, was already on. Gene had proposed 
the naming of Duncan against Skinner for treas- 
urer, and Steve Russell against Baker for clerk. 
These suggestions had been received with un- 
qualified approval on the part of his friends. 


THE 


GANG 


Duncan is just the man for treasurer/' Mar- 
shall had said ; “ and as for Steve Russell, why, 
ever since his trial, everybody has wanted to do 
something for him. He’ll make a strong candi- 
date and a good clerk.” Guegle, a German, had 
always received the support of Skinner and the 
gang, and would no doubt get it this year. He 
was strong with the young fellows about town 
and the Germans of the county, of whom there 
were many, and possessed the added political ad- 
vantage of having but one leg. The Democrats 
would undoubtedly renominate him as superin- 
tendent of schools, notwithstanding many of them 
preferred a better man. One Lincoln Kester 
would probably be named by the Republicans 
against Guegle. There was no question of Hes- 
ter’s competency. He was a graduate of an 
Eastern university, and had been exceptionally 
successful as superintendent of schools in Scud- 
derville for five years. He was a thoroughly 
trained man and a gentleman. Skinner was stir- 
ring the dregs of hell trying to win the renomina- 
tion for treasurer over Duncan, and Plumpy was 
leaving nothing undone to beat Steve. 

Sentiment grew in favor of Gene’s movement 
as the public became aware of the character of the 
ticket his followers would present. No valid 
objection could be made to any of the persons sug- 
gested for candidates. They were all men highly 
240 


THE THRASHING MACHINE 


esteemed in the community for industry, integrity, 
intelligence, and business ability. There was too, 
a feeling beneath the surface that Skinner was 
getting desperate. The suspicion was grow- 
ing, notwithstanding the fact that neither Gene 
nor I had said a word to further it, that he had 
some connection with the attempt on Gene’s life. 
This added to the strength of the new movement. 
Gene was several times approached by friends 
advising caution and care for his personal safety. 


Q 


241 


CHAPTER XXV 

ANOTHER SCENE IN GENE’S OFFICE 

I WAS sitting in our bedroom one warm after- 
noon reading. When a boy, one sunny Au- 
gust, I had read a series of books of adven- 
ture, and I enjoyed them so keenly that ever 
since when this month comes around with its list- 
less, sleepy, smoky days, I think of those books, 
and I like to turn again to some story of outdoor 
life. To-day I was living once more in the at- 
mosphere of that pleasant recollection, having 
found, that best of companionships, a book that 
just suited my mood. 

Gene was in the front room preparing cases 
for the next court. He had more of them than 
formerly. Suddenly I heard light steps on the 
stairway. In a moment I observed, through the 
door opening into the hall, Miss Walton and little 
Tressie turning into the front room. Miss Wal- 
ton had a newspaper in her hand. To all appear- 
ances, she had fully recovered from the effects of 
her injury. 

‘‘ I have come, Mr. Bradgate,” I heard her say 
directly after entering the office, “ to ask you 
what I can do to correct this gross insinuation? ” 

242 


\ 

IN GENETS OFFICE 

She spoke with considerable fervor, and I 
heard the newspaper rustle as though she was 
unfolding it. 

“ After my injury,” she continued, ‘‘ they kept 
the Scudderville papers containing the account of 
the affair from me, and I have never read it until 
to-day. By accident, this afternoon I came across 
the account in the “ Graphic.” I have it here, 
and have come to tell you, what I should have 
told you long ago, had I known of the article, 
that it was a most shameful and cowardly thing. 
You must have thought it strange, indeed, that I 
should permit such a false statement to pass until 
this time unchallenged. But, Mr. Bradgate, I 
have come to you as soon as I learned of its exist- 
ence to ask what I can do now to correct it.” 

Leave it just as it is, and say nothing and 
do nothing about it,” quietly responded Gene. 

“ And let this wicked thing go undisputed — 
this mean insinuation that the occasion of my 
injury was your seeking refuge behind me? ” 

“ I have had no wish at any time that any other 
course be pursued. The facts are as they are, and 
the facts are all that should concern us. What 
the article says is really a matter of indifference 
to me. However, I fully appreciate your feelings 
in regard to it. I have not thought it strange that 
you said nothing; but I have thought,” and he 
hesitated, “ I have thought — you must blame me, 

243 


THE 


GANG 


as I do myself, for not doing as you asked me to 
do that night — for not getting out of the room, 
and for permitting you to come into danger.” 

‘‘ No, no; there is no reason for such a thought. 
You could not have prevented me from passing 
you. And as for your not coming out of the 
room, you gave a reason, Mr. Bradgate, a good 
reason, for not leaving. You were on your own 
premises, and had a right to stay. I have not 
blamed you — nor myself, either.” 

There was a moment of silence. Then Gene 
said, as if finally dismissing the matter : 

“ We will make no attempt to correct the ar- 
ticle,” and continued slowly, “ Miss Walton, let 
me settle your mind upon one point that I fear 
is causing you anxiety.” 

I knew what was coming. His idea had been 
all along that she had thrown herself between 
him and the bullet in her eagerness to prevent a 
crime in which she believed her stepfather to be 
concerned. He was now going to assure her 
that no trouble need be looked for from him in 
respect to Skinner. It was the considerate thing 
to do, provided his interpretation of her motive 
was correct. But if mine was right — that her pur- 
pose had been wholly to save Gene, and further, 
that she knew nothing about her stepfather’s com- 
plicity, or the suspicion of it, it was, indeed, a 
most unfortunate, if not a cruel act. 


244 


IN GENE’S OFFICE 


“ I want you to be perfectly at ease upon one 
point. Believe me, that so far as I am concerned, 
no< attempt will be made to punish any one in 
connection with this affair, nor to disgrace any 
one whom rumor might connect with it. I accuse 
no one, and shall never accuse any one.” 

I do not understand you.” 

“ I mean that as far as I am able, I shall not 
permit publicity to be given to any circumstances 
that might be considered compromising to any 
person in connection with the act. I have fought 
your father, and shall continue to fight him 
politically — but — but my opposition shall go no 
further than that.” 

At that moment somebody was approaching 
the office, and the conversation was discontinued. 
Gene arose, saying: 

I thank you, Miss Walton, for your gener- 
ous desire to correct this misstatement of the 
‘ Graphic,’ but it is better to let it rest. It is suf- 
ficient that you understand and I understand the 
part you took in the affair, and I hope the one 
for whom you did your brave deed fully appre- 
ciates the sacrifice you made for him; rest as- 
sured, I repeat, that no trouble will be made about 
it by me.” 

Then she arose from her chair and walked 
slowly out of the office. While I could not see 
her, I could not help feeling that she was puzzled 

245 


THE 


GANG 


and disappointed. And he, I feared, by his own 
mistake, had deprived himself of that which of all 
things he would have most highly prized. So 
often we write with the page darkened by our 
own shadow. 


2^ 


CHAPTER XXVI 

AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 

A FEW evenings later we went out to An^s. 
We had been invited to assist in disposing 
of the profits of the first chicken-hunt of 
the season. Mrs. Russell’s fried prairie- 
chicken would have led me on a much longer trip 
than that. An had said, when he and Mattie 
came to invite us in the morning, that he ** S’pos’d 
the only way you fellers ever get a taste o’ chicken 
is when somebody else kills ’em for ye. Pop’ll 
be glad to have ye come, though. I just got ’em 
last evenin’. I got the whole covey of ’em. 
There’s six. We’ll have ’em for supper to-night.” 

We were on the street in front of the post- 
office when he asked us. It was in the morning, 
just after the mail had been distributed, and a 
group of bystanders heard the invitation. 

Take another. An?” somebody chimed in. 
“ And how about my chances ? ” queried some- 
body else. 

‘‘ I can’t very well do it, boys ; when it comes 
to these two young upstarts here, it’s about all 
Pop and I want on our hands at once.” 

Then they talked generally about prairie- 

247 


THE 


GANG 


chickens, of how plentiful they were, where they 
could be found, and so forth. 

Frank Morgan was in the company. Fie as- 
sumed to be an accomplished sportsman. When 
he went after game he wore a hunting suit and 
leggings, and carried a game-bag. In fact, the 
principal feature of his hunt was the proper dress 
for it. He had recently purchased a bird dog 
from An, and had not met with success with it. 
After having taken a leading part in the conversa- 
tion with a considerable show of wisdom about 
game, he addressed An rather familiarly: 

‘‘ Say, An, what’s the matter with that dog I 
bought of you the other day? I can’t make him 
work at all; I can’t teach him anything.” 

An did not like the young fellow on general 
principles, but he especially disliked the insinua- 
tions against the ability of a dog of his raising 
to imbibe knowledge. 

An stood for a moment looking in an aimless, 
vacant way across the street, and then said : 

“ Well, I’ll tell ye what’s the reason ye can’t 
teach the dog anything, as near’s I c’n figger it. 
Before you c’n learn a dog anything, ye’ve got to 
know more than the dog does.” 

A little later in the forenoon An told us that 
the grain buyer wanted the rest of his barley that 
day, and so he would make two or three more trips 
to town. Fie would likely be a little late in get- 

m 


AN^S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


ting home after the delivery of the last load, so he 
had arranged not to have supper before eight 
o’clock. 

But,” he suggested, you fellers can go out 
any time. Steve’s goin’ to be out about five or 
six o’clock; you can go along with him — and 
say ! ” he called back, as he was leaving, ye can 
stay all night jest as well as not.” 

No,” said Gene, “ we must be back here to- 
night, as I am expecting some people on business 
early to-morrow morning. We’ll go out when- 
ever Steve is ready.” Steve, since his acquittal, 
had been buying grain for a dealer in Scudder- 
ville. 

This conversation had taken place on the street 
directly in front of the bank and the Graphic ” 
office. 

Late in the afternoon, Steve came up ready to 
go. I had decided to wait until after the evening 
train, as I was looking for important mail. I 
would, after that, be able to reach An’s place by 
eight o’clock. So Gene and Steve started off 
without me. It was after seven o’clock when An 
came in with his last load and drove in on the 
dump.” After unloading, he came up town for 
a purchase or two. The train had come in, and I 
met him on my way to the post-office. 

What’s the matter — why didn’t ye go with 
Gene and Steve ? ” 


THE 


GANG 


I told him my reason, and that I was going out 
at once. 

Tie your old boss up to Moll’s hame an’ get 
in an ride along with me an’ keep me company. 
I’ll be ready in a few minutes. I’m goin’ up here 
to Mayhew’s clothin’ store to get a new suit of 
duds. Pop’s been complainin’ four or five years 
’bout these clo’s o’ mine gettin’ old, an’ I don’t 
know but what they be a little rusty. An’ Ruth 
Walton an’ Tressie is out there, ye know — no, 
maybe I didn’t tell ye, but they be. Pop drove 
old ‘ Nell ’ in an’ got ’em to-day. They’re goin’ 
to stay all the week. But Miss Walton bein’ there, 
I jest took a notion to get some do s to-night, an’ 
take ’em along home. ’T won’t take me long. 
My team’ll be tied in front of Mayhew’s store.” 

It was pleasant news that Miss Ruth was to 
be one of our party. She was a comfortable kind 
of girl to have around. A strong friendship had 
sprung up between her and Mrs. Russell, and 
she was almost as frequent a visitor at the Rus- 
sell home as Gene and I. 

An went into Mayhew’s clothing store. I 
continued on to the post-office for the mail. After 
looking through my letters hastily, I put them, 
with Gene’s, in my pocket, went after “ Pete ” 
and tied him beside Moll.” This done, I stepped 
into the store where An was. He had just 
finished the selection of his duds. 


250 


AN^S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


'' You roll ’em up,” he said to the clerk, an’ 
give ’em to this man here,” pointing to me, “ an’ 
he’ll bring ’em out to the wagon. I want to run 
around to the post-office a minute an’ see if 
there’s any mail.” 

He went out, and the clerk proceeded to wrap 
up the bundle while I chatted with Mr. Mayhew. 
While we were talking, the clerk went out to put 
the bundle into the wagon. At least when I 
asked him for it, he said : 

I just threw it in the bottom of An’s wagon- 
box.” 

All right,” I answered, and went out. 

In a moment An came up. 

Did ye put in my new duds ? ” he asked. 

They’re in the wagon-box.” 

** Well, climb in and we’ll be off.” 

I climbed up into the high spring seat, and An, 
after untying the horses and making his usual 
careful examination to see that the lines were all 
right, mounted beside me. It was now quite 
dark. 

We drove off at a good brisk trot. While we 
could not reach the farm by eight, we would not 
be much behind time. When we came to the 
bridge across the river and had driven half-way 
over it. An suddenly stopped the team. 

“ I’ve got an idea, Pennamite ! It’s dark now, 
an’ there ain’t likely to be anybody ’long here. 

251 


THE 


GANG 


If you’ll hold these lines, I’ll slip off these old 
duds an’ slip on the new toggin’s an’ give the old 
gal a surprise — attend the supper in sort of eve- 
nin’ dress, ye know.” 

He gave the reins to me and climbed down 
from the seat into the wagon-box behind me 
and stripped off his clothes. His costume con- 
sisted of an old tattered pair of overalls, his shirt, 
boots, and hat. 

“ Pop’s made such a goldarned fuss about these 
old traps that I b’lieve I’ll dump ’em in the river.” 
And as he spoke, he pitched his overalls and shirt 
over the bridge-rails into the stream. For a mo- 
ment I saw them floating, a black spot on the sur- 
face, and then disappear. 

‘‘ It’s a little chilly to ” Here he stopped. 

I was still sitting in the seat with my back to 
him, enjoying the situation. 

Say, Pennamite, where’d you put them duds, 
anyway ? ” 

“ Why, Mayhew’s clerk said he put them in the 
wagon-box. Aren’t they there ? ” 

'' I’ll be goldarned if I c’n find ’em. Look up 
in front of the seat an’ see if they ain’t there. Be 
they there, Pennamite? ” 

“ No; they don’t seem to be here.” 

This is a pretty fix, ain’t it, Pennamite ? The 
old duds are gone too. I’ll be goldarned ! ” And 
he stood shivering. 

252 


AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


** What would you advise a feller to do ? I 
ain’t exactly rigged out to meet polite society.” 

I did not know what to do, and did the only 
thing I could do — told him so. 

‘‘ Well, I’ve got this old hat an’ a pair o’ boots, 
an’ a pair o’ galluses left; but that don’t make 
quite enough, does it, Pennamite ? But there don’t 
seem to be any show of gettin’ any more, so I 
s’pose you might as well drive on tolerable quick.” 
And he climbed over into the seat. “ I rather 
think if I go home in this shape. I’ll succeed in 
my project of surprisin’ Pop.” 

I agreed that she might be somewhat surprised. 
I gave him my coat, and dressed in that and his 
other scant clothing, we started again homeward. 
We drove rapidly, especially when passing 
houses, and when we met teams on the road. 
When we pulled up at the farm, he asked me to 
go over to the cob-house and get him “ an old 
pair of pants hangin’ there.” With them and my 
coat on, he said he would manage to get into 
the house unobserved, and there maybe he could 
find a shirt. “ I hope,” he added, “ this’ll cure 
Pop of raisin’ such a dummed rumpus about my 
old clo’es, if she finds it out. But I’ll tell ye, Pen- 
namite, it ’ud be jest like her to think the thing’s 
funny. You’d better not say anything to her 
about it.” 

I went to the cob-house as he desired, and 


253 


THE 


GANG 


found the things, and he stood in the wagon and 
put them on. 

By this time our arrival had been observed, and 
Bill, the hired man, came out and took charge of 
the team. 

“ The chickens are waiting for you,’' he said. 

We went into the house, I in my shirt-sleeves 
and An wearing my coat buttoned as close as he 
could button it to conceal the absence of his shirt. 
But the coat-sleeves were too short for his long 
arms, and at the neck it could be seen that if he 
had on an undergarment at all, it must be cut 
extremely low. When, we entered the room little 
Mattie looked up at him in astonishment; it was 
such a remarkable thing for her grandfather to 
wear any coat at all in the warm months. 

“ Dranpa An, whose coat you got on ? ” and 
then all the others looked — first at him in my 
coat, and then at me with no coat. 

Why, what’s the matter? ” said his wife, look- 
ing us both over. Why, Andrew Russell ! ” 
And she went up to him and tore open a button 
or two of the coat, you ain’t got on a sign of a 
shirt ! ” 

“ Well, s’pose I ain’t. What do you care if I 
ain’t? What do you care? If I ain’t kickin’ 
’pears to me nobody else ought to.” 

“ Well, if I ever! ” said Mrs. Russell. 

“ No ; I don’t s’pose you ever will,” said An ; 


254 


AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


“ an’ I don’t think I ever will again, either ; I’ll 
tell ye that ! ” 

“ Well, what is the matter? '' cried Mrs. Rus- 
sell. 

‘‘ I’m feelin’ pretty tolerable well, thank you,” 
answered An imperturbably, “ how are you? 

“ Andrew Russell, them ain’t the pants you was 
wearin’ this afternoon; them’s Bill’s.” Bill was 
the hired man. “ What in the world have you 
got Bill’s pants on for, and what have you got 
on Mr. Blair’s coat for?” 

“ Well, the principal reason is, I thought they’d 
look rather better’n nothin’; what do you think 
about it ? ” 

Well, stop your nonsense and tell us what 
is the matter. Andrew Russell, where’s your 
shirt?” 

Why, I can’t very well get it, to-night ; but I 
expect, if it’s necessary, an’ if you must have it, 
amongst us, we could fish it out in the morning.” 

“Fish it out! Fish it out where?” 

“ Well, I s’pose you’ve got to know all about 
it. I told Pennamite you’d have to sooner or 
later. You’ve been sayin’ so much about my old 
duds I thought I’d get some new ones; so I 
bought a new suit and a shirt too, an’ left ’em with 
this young Pennamite to see to it that I got em 
with me in the wagon. I s’posed they was there 
all right, and when I got on to the bridge, I says 


THE 


GANG 


to Pennamite, ‘ I’ll jest take these old duds off 
and dump ’em in the river, an’ put on my new 
ones.’ So I took off the old ones and dumped ^em 
into the river too, but as to puttin’ my new ones 
on, I — didn’t do that.” 

‘‘Why didn’t you?” she asked. 

“ Why, when I came to look for ’em, they did- 
n’t appear to be there. Somehow the chap either 
got ’em in the wrong wagon or somethin’ become 
of ’em. Anyway, they wan’t there ; an’ so I didn’t 
put ’em on. Ye may not like this outfit, but it 
was this or nothin’ but a hat ’n a pair o’ boots an’ 
my ol’ galluses. I hope you’ll be satisfied. I did 
the best I could under the circumstances. Now, 
if you’ve got any extras around, I’ll slip ’em on 
an’ give these things to them that owns ’em.” 

But the only reply he got from Mrs. Russell 
was a cross between a shriek and a gurgle, for as 
soon as she had understood the situation she had 
fallen into a chair, and was now engaged in a 
desperate struggle to regulate the expression of 
her chaotic feelings down to a systematic laugh. 
It was a hard fight for her, but at length she con- 
quered sufficiently to cry, “ I never did see such 
a man,” when she went off again. 

Miss Walton had almost as much trouble in 
suppressing her own jolly laugh as did Mrs. 
Russell in controlling her gurgles and chokes. 

In the midst of the general hilarity into which 
256 


AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


all of us were thrown, An slipped off upstairs. 
Shortly after, he reappeared in another outfit, old 
and familiar. 

Gene's mail consisted of a single letter, which 
bore the Scudderville postmark. I gave it to him 
soon after I arrived. He read it, I thought, with 
more than casual interest, then slipped it into his 
pocket. Then everything was ready for us to 
sit down to “ supper.” 

The table was spread in the sitting-room.” 
Mrs. Russell’s place was at one end of the table 
and An’s at the other. Mrs. Russell had planned 
that Mattie, Gene, and Steve sit on one side, and 
Miss Walton, Tressie, and I on the other. But 
Steve insisted that he would ‘‘ wait on table ” in- 
stead of his mother. As we were gathering about 
the table little Mattie looked up at Gene, who was 
taking the chair to her right. She always wanted 
to sit next to him when he ate with the family. 
But there seemed to be something new on her 
mind to-night. Instead of sitting down with the 
rest, she hesitated a moment, and looked at Steve’s 
vacant place at her left. Then she went to her 
grandmother and whispered something in her ear. 
Mrs. Russell smiled and presently said, “ Oh, I 
guess you may.” Then the little thing, blush- 
ing shyly, embarrassed at the notice she was at- 
tracting, walked slowly around to Miss Walton 
and took hold of her hand. 


THE 


GANG 


“What is it, little Mattie?^’ inquired Miss 
Walton. 

“ Come wiv me — I show you,” she said dif- 
fidently, tugging at Miss Walton’s hand. Miss 
Walton gave an inquiring look at Mrs. Russell, 
who smilingly nodded an affirmative. She then 
got up, and the child led her around the table to 
the place which had been set for Steve. 

“ Sit down here, pleath,” she said. “ I wants 
you and my B’adgate to sits on bofe sides of me,” 
and then she climbed into the chair between them. 
They each turned and looked at the happy child. 
As they lifted their eyes from her they met for an 
instant. Then they quickly looked toward the 
table. 

The evening passed delightfully. We sat and 
chatted until late. Gene and I were just preparing 
to take our leave when all were startled by a 
rapid succession of loud knocks at the door. In a 
flash I recalled — and so doubtless did the others 
— that other night when we had been together 
here and a knock had come which had brought 
with it months of sorrow. An went to the door 
and opened it, while the rest of us stood back with 
apprehension on every countenance. 

“ I want to see Mr. Eugene Bradgate, lawyer ; 
I want to see him mighty quick too ! ” 

The words were excitedly uttered. I thought I 
recognized the voice, and when I saw the face 
2S8 


AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


as it came within the realm of the light, I knew 
I was not mistaken. It was half-witted Timmy 
Marks. 

‘‘ Come in, Timmy,'’ said An ; “ yer man’s right 
here.” 

He stepped inside the door. His slouch hat was 
pulled tightly down over his ears and covered 
his low forehead to the eyebrows. Below the hat- 
brim his nervous, twitching eyes gleamed with a 
look which, coupled with his bushy beard that 
grew almost to the eyes, suggested the wild beast 
rather than the man. He moved about in a quick, 
jerky way. 

“ I don’t want no chair ; don’t want no seat. 
Timmy Marks ain’t got no time to sit down to- 
night, that’s what he ain’t ! ” and he looked from 
one to another of us, perking his head by a series 
of emphatic jerks. 

‘‘ Mr. Eugene Bradgate, lawyer, don’t want to 
ride to Scudderville to-night. Not much he don’t. 
Why? Because Timmy Marks says so.” And 
then he bobbed his head from side to side, look- 
ing as before, first at one and then another. 

“Why, what’s the trouble?” asked Gene. 

“ What^s the trouble? You’ll find out what’s 
the trouble when you git under that clump o’ big 
oak trees at this end o’ the bridge. You’ll find 
out what the trouble is, you will ! ” And he 
snapped his mouth shut, compressed his lips 

259 


THE 


GANG 


tightly with an air of mystery, and silently 
looked us over once more in the same uncanny 
way. 

Why, Timmy, what is there to be afraid of? ” 

‘‘ You’ll find what’s to be afraid of, you will, 
if you go there. By the time you’ve seen as much 
as I have of Norm Skinner, you won’t ask me 
what’s to be afraid of, you won’t.” 

At the mention of her stepfather’s name, Miss 
Walton spoke up hastily, alarm showing in her 
face and voice. What is that, Timmy? What 
about Mr. Skinner?” 

Probably Timmy had not seen her before. He 
turned quickly toward her. 

** Excuse me. Miss,” he said ; I didn’t know 
you was here; but can’t help it. Timmy heard 
something in Scudderville, and Timmy followed 
somebody out of Scudderville to-night, Timmy 
did. And Timmy got wet wading the river, 
Timmy did, so he wouldn’t have to cross the 
bridge.” He was wet to the waist. 

Then he continued. 

‘‘ You do just as Timmy Marks says, Eugene 
Bradgate, lawyer; you keep away from them 
trees ; you stay right where you be. I’ve said all 
I’ve got to say,” and he turned and darted out of 
doors into the night. 

“ What does he mean ? ” said Mrs. Russell. 

‘‘ Oh, he’s crazy,” said Steve. 


260 


AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


Gene,” said An slowly, “ there’s somethin’ 
wrong. You fellers, if ye go home, had better be 
a little careful.” 

If it’s dangerous, they’d better not go home,” 
said Mrs. Russell. She seemed to understand the 
source from which danger to Gene might be ex- 
pected. 

Miss Walton, who, during the talk with Timmy, 
had retained her seat in the corner, now sprang 
up, her face white with fear. 

‘‘ No, don’t, don’t ! For God’s sake, don’t go ! ” 
she cried pleadingly. 

Why, I must go,” answered Gene. 

Miss Walton took a step or two toward him. 
Then she said, Mr. Bradgate, you heard my — 
my stepfather’s name mentioned; I beg of you, 
don’t go. Not for the sake of your own safety 
would I ask it, but for our — my mother’s — 
Charley’s — for my sake, don’t go.” 

This appeal struck home. Gene hesitated. He 
slowly took from his pocket the envelope I had 
brought from town. Deliberately he took the 
letter from the envelope and read it. Then turn- 
ing to her, he said: 

“ I’m sorry, but I must return to-night. There 
may be something in what Timmy says, but Miss 
Walton, do not feel uneasy. I cannot think — I 
am sure there cannot be anything in it that con- 
cerns — Mr. Skinner. But,” he continued, turn- 

261 


THE 


GANG 


ing to me, you may as well stay here, Phil. It 
is not necessary for you to go in to-night.” 

It angered me — the suggestion that I stay and 
he go — and he saw that it did. 

“ I didn’t mean, Phil, that you were afraid — of 
course I didn’t. But still, it will suit me better if 
you don’t go.” 

Why? ” I asked. 

He said nothing for a moment ; then, looking at 
the letter he held in his hand, he answered : 

I think I’ll read you this letter, although I 
thought at first it would be better to say nothing 
about it. It seems to be printed to avoid possi- 
ble identification of the writer.” 

He then read aloud as follows : 

Eugene Bradgate you must change your course. You 
know what is meant. You and your friend, Philip Blair, 
are going to An Russell’s to-night. Neither of you will 
return alive if you do not promise faithfully to leave the 
State at once, and any failure to keep your promise will 
cost not only your own life, but that of your friend. 
Our advice to you is to leave the community at once and 
not return to town from An Russell’s to-night. Your 
failure to return will be taken by us as evidence that you 
have already departed, or promise that you will leave 
forthwith and forever. 

Signed, Many Outraged Citizens. 

Whitecappin’, eh ? ” said An. “ By gosh, 
we’ll all go to town to-night, I guess! We’ll 

262 


AN’S CHICKEN-SUPPER PARTY 


look a little further into this ^ outraged citizens ’ 
business ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, Mr. Bradgate, you should go,” said Miss 
Walton, but her voice was tremulous. You 
cannot do otherwise,” she added in a low tone. 


263 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE WHITE CAPS 

A N’S combative spirit was fully aroused. 
Gene tried to dissuade him from going, 
but it was of no use. Steve, of course, 
determined to go also. 

At first I thought it strange that, if there were 
any real danger, the enemy should have warned 
him by letter; but, on second thought, it became 
evident that they had estimated Gene’s independ- 
ence aright. They had calculated on his doing 
as he had tried to do — saying nothing to any one 
about the matter, and making the trip alone. 
But when I insisted upon accompanying him, he 
could do nothing other than divulge the contents 
of the letter. Mrs. Russell was not now opposed 
to our making the trip to-night, nor did she ob- 
ject to An’s going with us. I really think the dear 
old lady would have gone herself had she followed 
her real wishes. 

“ You’d better let An go with you,” she said. 
“ I hope there ain’t going to be any trouble ; but 
if there should be, you’ll find him tolerable useful, 
maybe.” And she looked up at her stalwart hus- 
band with pride, 

264 


THE WHITE CAPS 


An was convinced that something was wrong 
and, though Gene protested, we obeyed his sug- 
gestion, and armed ourselves with the few fire- 
arms that were in the house. These consisted of 
a Winchester rifle, a shotgun, and two revolvers. 
We had some shells for the shotgun and a few 
rounds of cartridges for the Winchester and the 
revolvers. An took the Winchester, Steve the shot- 
gun, and Gene and I a revolver each, and, thus 
equipped, we set forth on horseback. The hired 
man had gone to bed, and we left him behind 
thinking ourselves equal to the occasion. 

The best road from An’s into Scudderville led 
over a bridge that spanned the river about two or 
three miles west of An’s and half a mile north of 
Scudderville. We rode toward the bridge for 
about a mile, and then, at An’s suggestion, dis- 
mounted and, leaving the horses in Steve’s charge, 
much to his displeasure, took to our feet. 

We’ll walk down a ways,” said An, who was 
conducting the campaign, and reconnoiter a 
little an’ see what’s goin’ on. Now keep your 
mouths shet,” he added, “ this is somethin’ like 
scoutin’ in Virginny.” 

We walked silently down the road. There was 
no moon, and, while the stars were out, it was 
quite dark. 

We were fully half a mile from the bridge 
when An said, You fellers wait here till I go 

263 


T H E 


GANG 


an’ see how the land lays,” and in an instant he 
was gone. 

“ The idea,” I protested, '' of us two young fel- 
lows stopping and letting that old man go alone 
on a mission like that ! ” 

I suppose,” answered Gene dryly, that the 
one who can do the best service is the man who 
ought to go.” 

The remark convinced me, for I had learned 
enough of An and his history as a scout during 
the war to know that the man who could render 
the best service had undertaken the duty. 

We waited for what semed a long time. At 
length An reappeared. 

I’ve located ’em,” he said ; they’re where 
Timmy said, on this side of the bridge by them 
oaks. There’s quite a number of ’em, an’ they’re 
now waitin’ and wonderin’ why you fellers don’t 
come along. They’re figgerin’ on doin’ some 
hangin’ if Gene, here, won’t agree to leave the 
country. I got within twenty feet of ’em an’ 
listened to ’em talk awhile. There ain’t but one 
that I could tell by ’is voice, an’ that’s Bud Mc- 
Guire. Bud’s about half-full an’ doin’ a lot o’ 
talkin’. It’s politics. Gene, at the bottom of it. 
Bud said as much. 

“ Some of ’em thought mebbe you’d bring help, 
but McGuire told ’em you’d get no help; you’d 
come alone, unless maybe Blair’d come along. 

2$6 


THE WHITE CAPS 


He wished Blair would come, for he believed 
if they went to hangin’ Blair, Gene ’d leave to 
save Blair, if he wouldn’t to save himself. 

Their plan is to catch ye, when you’re pass- 
in’. Then they’re expectin’ to take ye down be- 
low the bridge to Sanford’s Oak an’ stretch yer 
necks till you agree to git out o’ the country, an’ 
if ye don’t promise, to leave ye hangin’. 

Now, if you fellers want to take a chance. I’ll 
git Steve an’ we’ll creep down an’ locate ourselves 
in the neighborhood, an’ then you two fellers can 
ride on down just as though nothin’ had hap- 
pened. They’ll probably jerk ye off yer horses 
an’ take ye down to Sanford’s Oak, but Steve an’ 
I ’ll tag along and try to see that there ain’t either 
of ye hung. Mebbe we can ketch some of the 
rascals. We can scare ’em up some, anyway. 
’T ain’t probable they’ll be expectin’ anybody else 
after you two have appeared. They may shake 
ye up a little, but we’ll see that they don’t do any 
hangin’ — if ye want to take your chances.” 

While the enterprise had in prospect some dis- 
agreeable features. Gene and I agreed to enter 
into it. An waited while Gene and I returned 
and told Steve of the plans, and sent him on to 
join his father. We had left our firearms with 
An, and Steve took the shotgun with him. 

We waited for some time after Steve had gone 
— long enough for him and his father to plant 

267 


THE 


GANG 


themselves securely in the vicinity of the enemy; 
then, after tying the horses to a wire fence by 
the roadside, we mounted ours and rode down 
into the valley. It looked to me like a pretty big- 
job, but An was so much in favor of it that neither 
Gene nor I had expressed the misgivings we felt. 
Steve had gone off as eager for the fray as his 
father. 

We rode on with as much indifference as it was 
possible to assume under the circumstances, but 
the farther we advanced the harder it became to 
assume indifference. I began to question the 
pleasure of having a lot of men pounce out of 
the brush upon me, and with every step, I wished 
more and more I had not come. Gene talked 
along with a show of unconcern, but I didn’t say 
anything; I was too scared. 

As we neared the spot, he spoke up loudly, to let 
the enemy know for sure we were coming. This 
bridge, Blair, just ahead of us, has cost this county 
four times as much as it’s worth.” 

We were going into the deep shadows of the 
great oaks. I was looking for the crisis now. 
I was not kept long waiting. We had not gone 
twenty feet after Gene ceased speaking before my 
horse suddenly sprang to one side, rearing and 
tugging at the bridle. Somebody had seized it. 
The next instant I was jerked from my horse. I 
struggled a little, and uttered a few shouts to keep 
268 


THE WHITE CAPS 


up appearances, but was promptly told to “ hold 
my jib.” I obeyed. In another moment my 
hands were bound behind me, a sack was thrown 
over my head, and I was being hustled off into the 
woods, a rope around my neck. There were 
several of our friends on the job. Not a word, 
however, was spoken as we stumbled on. 

I cannot say that I was enjoying the situation 
much. Suppose there should be a hitch in the 
proceedings ? Suppose An should fail to show up 
until a little late ? One can suppose a good many 
things in a short time under such circumstances. 
How comfortable we might have been had we 
all stayed out at Russells’, as good citizens of a 
Christian community should when threatened by 
outlaws. 

We were going to Sanford’s Oak! This tree, 
about a quarter of a mile from the bridge, had 
once been pointed out to me as the place where 
tradition had it a man named Sanford had been 
tortured by the Indians. A comforting medita- 
tion! 

At last we stopped, and I was lifted upon a 
barrel set on end. The barrel was menacingly 
loose and rickety. It had probably been picked 
up from the river drift. The other end of the 
rope was thrown over a limb above me, and I felt 
it tighten as it was drawn down. It was becom- 
ing alarming. Catching bandits had not been in 

269 


THE 


GANG 


my line before, and I wished now that I had 
never gone into the business. One thing certain 
I resolved : If I ever got out of this scrape, which 
did not seem at all likely, none of Gene’s foolish- 
ness, nor An’s either, would get me into another. 

Then a voice, utterly strange to me, said, I 
’spose, Mr. Bradgate, you know how to save the 
life of your friend and of yourself. What have 
you got to say ? ” 

Gene made no answer. 

The voice continued : ‘‘ I’ll show you, Mr. 
Bradgate, just how your friend is fixed.” 

There was the striking of a match, and pres- 
ently I was conscious of a light near me. 

Scared as I was, I realized that they had 
paid, unwittingly perhaps, a high tribute to Gene. 
They had conceded that by threatening his own 
life, they might not deter him from his purpose; 
but that what he would not do to save himself he 
would do to save me. Thus grasping the situa- 
tion, my fear gave place to anger. I felt now 
that if by this means I could help capture these 
scoundrels, I was glad I had come. 

‘‘ What have you to say, Mr. Bradgate ? ” 

I answered for him. 

Mr. Bradgate has nothing to say except that 
you are a pack of scoundrels and cowards.” 

I was so mad that I nearly fell off the barrel 
and hanged myself. 

270 


THE WHITE CAPS 


‘‘ I will give you three minutes, Mr. Bradgate, 
by the watch, to promise to get out of this coun- 
try and stay out. You alone can save your 
friend’s life and your own. If you don’t make 
this promise, these outraged citizens ’ll finish him 
first, and you next.” 

Matters had gone far enough to suit me. I 
was ready for An and Steve to put in their work. 
I hoped the light would reveal the captors to 
them. The voice continued: 

‘‘There’s six of us. We will begin to count 
time from now.” 

A silence. 

“Half a minute,” said the voice. 

Another silence. 

“ One minute.” 

Where was An? 

“ A minute and a half.” 

What had become of Steve? 

“ Two minutes.” 

Suddenly a new voice. 

“ The first ‘ outraged citizen ’ that lifts ’is 
finger ’s a dead one I ” 

Dear old An. 

He spoke from right behind me. “ Now, all 
hands up ! ” 

At the first sound of his voice there was a 
rustle as of a sudden start among those about me, 
and a quick movement at my right, and then some 

271 


THE 


GANG 


one rushed through the brush. Whoever it was, 
he had not gone far, however, when another 
voice rang out, “ Stop ! ” 

This was Steve. “ Good boy, Steve ! ” I mur- 
mured. Then was heard the sound of a brief 
struggle, and presently Steve’s voice again. 

“ March right back to the rest of ’em, or I’ll 
rid this community of at least one rascal.” 

“ Now the rest o’ you ' outraged citizens ’ bet- 
ter stay right where you are.” An was talking 
now, and, raising his voice as if he were speaking 
to an army of assistants amid the surrounding 
trees, he went on : 

‘‘ Some of you fellers back there please come 
on an’ politely take these gentlemen’s things — 
weapons and such like. They might get hurt 
with them.” 

All right,” responded Steve, ‘‘ I ain’t very 
busy; I’ll do it,” as though he were but one of 
the army. 

I could hear Steve going from one to another, 
and the rattle of weapons as he gathered them 
up. Then he must have released Gene, for he 
presently loosed the rope from my neck and untied 
my hands. I, myself, took the sack off my head. 

And this is the tableau I saw: Six men, 
masked, grouped close together, all with hands 
stretched high above their heads, and An stand- 
ing in front with his Winchester leveled at them. 
272 


THE WHITE CAPS 


The whole situation was dimly lighted up by a 
kerosene campaign torch on a short standard, 
stuck in the ground beside a clump of hazel 
brush. An had taken them in the act of holding 
the rope that had been around our necks ready to 
string us up. 

When I looked at old An, I did not wonder that 
six men had obeyed hinx Had I been in their 
places, and had there been sixty of me instead 
of six, all of me would have been just as afraid 
of him as they were. He had advanced from 
cover into the light, mastery written in every 
stroke of the outline of his tall, strong figure. 
He stood an indomitable warrior, aroused to 
battle. Not a man of the six, after seeing him, 
could have doubted what his Winchester would 
do if a single finger were lifted to resist. 

Steve and Gene were dividing the weapons of 
the crowd among us ; two of their revolvers they 
handed me, just as I climbed ofif my scaffold. 

'' Now, boys,” said An, ‘‘ jest take them ropes 
and tie these gentlemen up nicely, and we’ll wan- 
der downtown and see if the sheriff won’t take 
’em.” 

Gene hesitated to obey An’s directions. I won- 
dered at it. For my part, I took a great deal of 
satisfaction in tying them, and tying them tight. 

Presently Gene said, “ Do you think we’d better 
have them punished. An ? ” 


273 


THE 


GANG 


Not waiting for An to reply, I almost shrieked, 
“ Punished ! Do you think I am going to be led 
around the woods like a calf, and then thank 
these scoundrels for doing it? You can do as you 
please; but nobody’s going to spring out of the 
brush and jerk me off my horse and lead me up 
on to a barrel where I have to stand on my tiptoes 
to keep from choking to death, without being 
punished when caught. If there’s no law to 
punish these outlaws. I’ll punish ’em myself. 
Punish them? Of course we’ll punish them, and 
punish them well too.” 

** ’T ain’t right. Gene, to let ’em go.” 

“ We was only playin’ a joke,” said McGuire 
with a weak laugh. He was the only one of the 
crowd that any of us knew. 

‘‘ Yes, yes,” I answered, “ a joke. A fine 
joke! A funny joke! I enjoyed it immensely, 
McGuire. You’re not only a highwayman, but 
you’re a liar ! ” 

Tut, tut, tut,” said An; don’t talk that way 
to a man that’s tied.” 

‘‘ Well, untie him then ! ” I responded hotly. 

“ Some one must swear out a warrant and turn 
them over to an officer,” said Gene. ‘‘ It may 
implicate ” 

“ I’ll swear out a warrant I’ll swear out any- 
thing, or at anything,” I shouted fiercely, “ to 
help put these scoundrels where they belong. 

274 


THE WHITE CAPS 


And as to whom it implicates, I don’t care whom 
it implicates.” 

“ Well,” said Gene reluctantly, “ I would much 
rather let them go, but probably you are right.” 

“ Right or wrong, that’s what I’m going to 
do,” I growled. And it was agreed that I should 
go to town and see Squire Peel, and tell him to 
draw up a warrant and put it in the hands of 
the sheriff, and, with the sheriff, come back for 
the men. 

Gene and An were to stand guard while Steve 
went home to report to his mother and Miss 
Walton. 

I went back to the road, and found our horses 
tied near where we had been assaulted. I took 
Pete, and was in town and had the warrant drawn 
and sworn to and in the sheriff’s hands in short 
order. The sheriff and I then drove out in a 
three-seated rig and, loading the prisoners into 
it, we hurried back to town and lodged them 
in jail. 

Next morning the news of the affair spread 
quickly over the town. An came in during the 
day to see how matters were progressing. He 
was, of course, the hero of the capture, and was 
made tell the story over and over again. The 
community was convinced that politics was be- 
hind the attack, and that Skinner was concerned 
in it. 


275 


THE 


GANG 


The five strangers were recognized by some 
of the town folks as men they had seen loitering 
about Scudderville for several days; and it be- 
came the popular belief that they had been hired 
and brought there by the instigators of the plot 
to carry it out at the first favorable opportunity. 
None of them, however, would admit any con- 
nection with any one outside of their party, and 
they held fast to Bud's line of defense — that the 
affair was only a little joke. This did not work 
at all in the preliminary examination before Jus- 
tice Peel, and they were bound over. 

Public opinion was steeled against Skinner and 
all who were with him politically. The township 
caucuses, which would occur in a few days, for 
the naming of the delegates to the second county 
convention would need no watching by Gene’s 
friends. The Skinner crowd would be turned 
down,” and everybody looked upon Gene as the 
chief factor in its accomplishment. 


276 


CHAPTER XXVHI 

HE WOULD NOT TAKE THE CROWN 

T he day drew near for the second and 
last Republican county convention for 
the year — the body which was to name 
the candidates for county offices. Skin- 
ner and Black, and Baker too, were for the pres- 
ent, at least, at the end of their political suprem- 
acy in the county. 

After the last assault we had heard little from 
Skinner. He approached Duncan one day, and 
indulged in professions of friendship for him. 
He saw that Duncan was likely to become his 
successor and custodian of the books of the treas- 
urer's office, and hoped, perhaps, to ingratiate 
himself sufficiently with him to receive some pro- 
tection from him in covering up official irregular- 
ities. It is needless to say that he got no satis- 
faction from sturdy old Tom, who would not 
have helped his own son to conceal a dishonorable 
act. 

He appeared worried. His anxieties preyed 
upon him until his face and walk told the story of 
failing strength. The overwhelming wave of pub- 
lic opinion, which was engulfing him, also buried, 

277 


THE 


GANG 


for the time at least, the political hopes of his 
friends. Skinner’s former supporters now came 
by scores to Bradgate’s camp, protesting that they 
had never been against him ; that they had always 
known that he was a trustworthy man, that Skin- 
ner and his crowd were not to be relied upon, 
and that they had really hoped to see just what 
had happened. 

Since the success of Bradgate’s ticket was cer- 
tain, interest in the coming gathering waned; 
but a few days before the meeting an unlooked- 
for thing happened, which set the local politicians 
all agog. Our senatorial district comprised 
Grant, Scudder, and Colfax counties. For years 
politics had decreed that Colfax and Grant should 
combine against Scudder, so Scudder had never 
had the senatorship, and until the programme 
varied it never could get it. 

This year it was supposed a Colfax man would 
be named, but late in the summer trouble arose 
between Colfax and Grant over a congressional 
candidate. The Grant County central committee, 
displeased with Colfax’s conduct, now sent a com- 
munication through its chairman to Merrill, the 
Scudder County chairman, saying that if Scudder 
would, in the coming convention, indorse one of 
its own men for senator. Grant would join with 
it and nominate him. Of course, we immediately 
decided to put up a candidate. Gene suggested 
278 


WOULD NOT TAKE THE CROWN 


Marshall. Everybody apparently agreed when 
talking to Gene, and he thought it was all ar- 
ranged. 

The convention, made up chiefly of tanned- 
faced, callous-handed farmers, assembled in the 
spacious courtroom on the upper floor of the 
courthouse on a Saturday afternoon of a perfect 
September day. Through the open windows, 
looking beyond the town, we could see the roll- 
ing miles of yellow-brown stubble of lately gath- 
ered wheat, oats, and barley, and the great fields 
of proud, kingly corn crowned with gray-white 
tassels that shimmered tremulously in the quiet air 
of the warm, sunny afternoon. At the distant 
rim of vision the autumn colors of earth met the 
fringe of hazy purple autumn sky that blended 
into the clear blue above. The gentle trace of 
breeze, the mere breath that floated in, brought 
from the fertile sweep the odors of ripened fields 
and the subdued, tranquil sounds of contented 
industry. 

Every township was fully represented. Prelim- 
inaries disposed of, Duncan was named for treas- 
urer, Steve Russell for clerk, and Kester for 
county superintendent. Candidates were also 
named for supervisor, coroner, and surveyor. 
Steve had the most enthusiastic support of any. 
Sympathy played a strong part in forming polit- 
ical sentiment for him. Since his arrest, trial, 

Z79 


THE 


GANG 


and acquittal the people vied with each other to 
express the good-will which they felt for him and 
the Russell family. These matters finished, the 
secretary of the convention read the communica- 
tion from Grant County relative to the senator- 
ship. By motion, it was promptly agreed that 
the convention indorse a candidate for State 
senator. 

Gene, who was not a delegate, was in a little 
side room talking to a friend. I was sitting in 
the back part of the courtroom and near a door 
opening into the room where Gene was. I was 
not wholly unprepared for what followed. Mar- 
shall took the floor and said: 

Mr. Chairman, and gentlemen of the convention : It 
seems to me opportune that the privilege is now accorded 
Scudder County of naming the candidate for senator from 
this district. I think Scudder County may well congratu- 
late herself that it now becomes her duty to name the 
senator. The people of Scudder, regardless of political 
affiliations, believe that we now have an available man 
for this office, who is capable of gracing it with a loftier 
quality of ability and service than has attached to it in 
years past, if ever before. 

In saying this, I do not in the least depreciate the 
character or ability of the present incumbent, or any 
of his predecessors. There are men to-day holding posi- 
tions much outranking the office for which we are about 
to name a candidate, who would in no respect be dis- 
paraged by characterizing them as inferior in ability for 
public service to the man I am about to name. And a 

280 


WOULD NOT TAKE THE CROWN 


further source of satisfaction is that this man is a young 
man, with a long life of usefulness before him. But though 
young, he is builded on a rock both in intellect and char- 
acter; he is a man who, if sent to the legislative halls 
of the State, or even to higher duties, will make for his 
State, his county, his party, and himself, an honored name, 
and one who in all times, in all places, and under all cir- 
cumstances, can be depended upon to exercise the force 
of his active mind and the strength of his unimpeachable 
character in untiring efforts for the people’s good as he 
sees it; a man who, if we name him to-day for this high 
office, I believe will, in the future years, give us occasion 
to point with pride to the hour of our participancy in this 
convention. I feel that it is unnecessary to speak his 
name, but for the formality of the record, I will do so. I 
now present to this convention as Scudder County’s candi- 
date for the State senatorship, the name of — Eugene 
Bradgate. 

The convention had listened to these remarks 
breathlessly, waiting like a gun cocked for the 
trigger to be pulled. At the mention of Gene’s 
name it went off. Delegates sprang to their feet, 
stood upon the chairs and benches; cheered, 
whistled, and shouted; hats flew up, and hands 
grasped hands. Even the chairman of the con- 
vention joined the pandemonium and hammered 
the table in front of him with the window prop 
which he used for a gavel. Gradually the con- 
vention subsided; then some one roused it again, 
and off it went louder than ever. Finally the 
tumult quieted sufficiently for Marshall to add to 

281 


THE 


GANG 


his motion — And I move that all rules be sus- 
pended, and that this nomination be made unan- 
imous by acclamation ! ” 

“ Second the motion ! ” shouted Currie, Milner, 
Crawford, and a dozen of others. 

The motion was put and carried with a thunder 
of Ayes.” 

'' Bradgate, Bradgate, Bradgate ! ” shouted the 
crowd. 

The gentleman with whom Gene was talking 
in the side room afterward told me that when 
the convention broke loose Gene remarked : 

That’s for Marshall,” and stepped to the door 
and watched the scene. It was not until after 
the noise had subsided and Marshall’s motion had 
been made, seconded, and carried, and the call 
arose for ‘‘ Bradgate, Bradgate, Bradgate ! ” that 
it dawned upon him what had really happened, 
and that he was the center of it. 

It had never occurred to his modest mind that 
the convention had a thought of naming him. 
When he heard his name called he instantly with- 
drew from the convention hall into the little room 
again. He went to the window and, resting his 
elbows on the high sill, gazed out into the court- 
yard toward the row of wooden storefronts op- 
posite. He stood there while the cries for him 
continued. Merrill, looking for him, came to me. 
I was blubbering like a fool, but I managed to 
282 


WOULD NOT TAKE THE CROWN 


tell him where he was. In a few minutes Mer- 
rill came back without him. The convention \vas 
still calling his name at intervals. 

Come here ! ” said Merrill, “ and make that 
man Bradgate behave himself. Do you know, 
he says he’ll not accept the nomination? He’s 
got an idea in his head that because he’s been 
saying that he wanted no advantage for himself 
he can’t take it now. Come on, and maybe you 
can show him some sense.” 

I was provoked almost beyond expression. 
Why would he persist in such a foolish notion? 
It was folly to resist such a splendid call to honor- 
able position. It was carrying high-mindedness 
to absurd lengths. I went to him and told him 
what I thought. An, who was a delegate, came 
in. He listened as I talked, but he did not 
join me in the urging. 

“ Boys,” Gene finally said, “ if we have done 
any good, let’s not spoil it all. We have been 
saying that individual ambition has ruled in Scud- 
der County long enough. Let’s live up to our 
creed one year at least. I can’t say, boys, that 
I’m not glad because of this,” and his voice grew 
husky ; but I can’t — I can’t do it. I hope you 
won’t press me further ; it’s no use, and you only 
distress me.” 

This silenced me. Then, turning to An, Gene 
said, An — An, I’d rather not go in there and 

283 


THE 


GANG 


tell them how I feel about it. You do it for me, 
won’t you? ” 

“Me, Gene? I ain’t no speechifier.” And he 
hesitated, but only for a moment, moved evi- 
dently by the earnestness of Gene’s appeal. 
“ Well, if you ain’t exactly in a fix to tell ’em 
yourself, mebbe I can make ’em understand.” 
And he straightway marched into the midst of 
the delegates, caught the eye of the chairman, 
who announced, “ Mr. Russell, gentlemen.” 

“ Mr. Chairman,” he began, and silence fell at 
once upon the house. Every one in the assemblage 
understood the friendship between Gene and An, 
and knew that he had some message for them. 
Besides, his commanding presence fixed attention. 

“ I ain’t no hand at speechmakin’, and I ain’t 
goin’ to make no speech. I’m jest goin’ to tell ye 
somethin’. I want ye to know Mr. Bradgate ain’t 
feelin’ jest exac’ly like cornin’ in and talkin’ to ye 
after doin’ what ye did for him.” 

It was plainly but simply put, and fully under- 
stood. 

“ And, gentlemen,” continued An, “ he don’t 
want to be senator. He can’t take the nomina- 
tion. He’s told everybody he wasn’t takin’ an 
interest in these doin’s for the sake of gettin’ 
an office himself, and while he’s as grateful to ye 
as anybody could be, he’s goin’ to stand by what 
he said; and, for my part, I think he ought to. 
284 


WOULD NOT TAKE THE CROWN 


You'll have to get somebody else for senator. 
That's all." And he sat down. 

The convention was not altogether unprepared 
for a refusal of Gene to stand, but the friends 
who had engineered the plan had hoped that by 
keeping all knowledge of it from him till it was 
carried through and the nomination unanimously 
made, he would feel that he could consistently 
accept it. But now that An, Gene's chief friend 
and adviser, had declined it for him, and had 
wound up his remarks by sustaining him in his 
course, the uselessness of insisting further was 
acknowledged by all. Disappointed as they were, 
his best friends recognized the logic of Gene's 
position, and in their hearts honored him more 
than they could have done had he accepted. If 
there had been any doubt before as to who was 
Scudder County's Republican leader, Eugene 
Bradgate, by this act, swept all doubt away. 

Marshall was now named for the place. He 
had not sought it, but there was no reason why 
he should not accept it, and he did. 


285 


CHAPTER XXIX 


CORN PICKING 

O ctober, calm, cool, sunny, and dry, 
is gone. November days are here 
again. Corn picking is on, and long 
before the east has begun to brighten, 
the pickers are up and out. 

By the light of the smoky lantern hung on a 
spike in the stable the horses are fed and hur- 
riedly harnessed. This done, the men go to the 
house again, crowding into the kitchen for their 
lamplight breakfast. In the middle of the long 
table is a big platter of fried eggs swimming in 
salty fat. There is a huge dish piled high with 
steaming boiled potatoes, and the fumes of the de- 
licious coffee fill the air. Simple as the fare is, 
there is plenty of it. With much shuffling of feet 
and scraping of chair legs, all take their places 
at the table. They eat heartily and hastily, ban- 
tering each other good-humoredly the while. The 
meal over, husking ‘‘ mits,” or gloves, and 
“ finger-stalls are gathered up from the corner 
behind the stove, and each man with his assort- 
ment hurries out of doors. Now the red rays 
of dawning day can be seen shooting out of the 
286 


CORN PICKING 


plain at the eastern horizon. On the way to the 
stable the men hear, through the frosty air, the 
rumble and clatter of the wagons from other 
farmyards over the frozen earth. Realizing that 
others are getting an earlier start than they, they 
move more briskly still, each man quickly leading 
from the stable a team. He “ hooks ” it to a 
heavy farm-wagon with a tall box upon it. One 
side of the box is much higher than the other, 
made so by the wide “ bangboard.” The team 
hitched to the wagon, he climbs in and drives off 
noisily to the field. 

The stalks of corn are dead and dried. Its 
foliage, once so fresh and green, hangs limp, 
bleached by the frost and the sun. The big ears 
droop heavily, and seem to be waiting wearily for 
the picker. 

The team enters the field, “ straddling ” a row 
of corn. The picker gets out and starts at his task. 
Until the sun is well up, the white frost will lie 
thick on the husks, and will nip and sting his 
worn and torn fingers in spite of his mits 
and finger-stalls. But he must not mind that. 
He dives in, deftly and skilfully jerking the ears 
from the stalk and clean from the husks, and 
hurls them end over end into the wagon-box. It 
is cold and biting business at first, and tolerably 
barren of poetry, notwithstanding the clear sky 
and the fresh sweetness of the morning air. But 

287 


THE 


GANG 


he soon gets warmed up, and then the ears fairly 
fly. One follows another in rapid, regular succes- 
sion, thumping hard against the bangboard, and 
then rattling down into the bottom of the wagon- 
box. In a little while the bottom of the box is 
covered with the corn, and the ears fall less 
noisily, rolling dully down the rapidly increasing 
pile. By eleven o’clock, if he is dexterous and 
industrious, he has gotten his load. He then 
clambers on to it, drives to the crib in the farm- 
yard, and shovels off the corn. He does not wait 
for the others to come to dinner, but hastens to 
the meal that is ready, letting the slower ones 
take theirs when they come. After dinner, he 
hurries back for his afternoon’s boxful. 

It looks simple and easy, when you watch a man 
at work who, in a single day, brings in corn that, 
when shelled, makes eighty, ninety, or a hundred 
bushels ; but try to keep abreast with him for even 
ten minutes, and you will see what experience 
and skill count for in corn picking. If you have 
soft city hands, you had better not try it at all; 
or at any rate, only for a little while at first. 

It is a jolly crowd at night that gathers around 
the lamplighted supper table, and afterward, as 
they sit by the kitchen stove for a brief smoke 
before bedtime. But at an early hour they file 
upstairs to bed, for Corn is king on the prairie, 
and his fields are large. The snow will blow by 
288 


CORN PICKING 


and by, and every ear should be in the crib before 
then. The dimly lighted kitchen is left quiet and 
alone to the patient, tired housewife. She must 
labor on into the night, long after the others are 
asleep, to prepare for the morrow’s early meal. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE ELECTION 

T he days before election passed quietly. 
Marshall, having been indorsed by the 
county, received the nomination in the 
senatorial convention without trouble. 
His election would follow as a matter of course. 
Bradgate's county ticket was all safe except Kes- 
ter. Guegle had been renominated as his oppo- 
nent. He had been strong enough to pull through 
in the convention in spite of his past connection 
with the Skinner crowd. He was working with 
considerable success through the sympathetic cry 
on account of his one leg. So the fight centered 
upon superintendent. 

Skinner’s political career was over. His suc- 
cessor would be an honest man. Black still at- 
tempted to exert his power against Gene through 
the columns of his paper, but the flower of his 
strength had departed. Publicly, however, he 
stood for the party ticket. In secret, he was help- 
ing Guegle. Baker had not lost so much as Black 
or Skinner. He was now professing friendship 
for the ticket too, hoping, no doubt, to get into 
the good graces of the element in control. 

290 


THE ELECTION 


Election day passed off without special inci- 
dent. At night, after the polls were closed, the 
crowd gathered in an unused building on Main 
Street, where arrangements had been made to re- 
ceive the election returns. Funds had been raised 
to pay for the telegraphic despatches. Couriers 
from the country would bring in the count from 
the townships outside. A blackboard was set up 
in the room on which to write the returns. 

When the count was completed in Scudder 
Township it appeared that Duncan had run 
better than his party vote there. Steve also had 
gone considerably ahead of the rest of the ticket. 
Kester had fallen a little behind. Later, other 
townships came in with about the same general 
results as to Duncan, Steve, and Kester, the first 
two being ahead of their party vote and Kester a 
little behind. Guegle had made his work tell. 

Before midnight an ingenious and successful 
trick was discovered. It had been played, very 
likely, more as a malicious joke than for political 
profit. Each party had nominated for county 
surveyor a man named Smith. The Democrat 
was G. A. Smith, the Republican was C. A. 
Smith. Neither of them was well known. Some 
one, probably Bill Black, conceived the plan of 
getting the name of G. A. Smith, the Democratic 
candidate, upon the Republican ballots in a num- 
ber of precincts. Ballots were usually furnished 

291 


THE 


GANG 


by the county chairman of each party to the 
township chairman. Merrill had sent to the town- 
ship chairman Republican ballots, all bearing the 
name of the candidate, C. A. Smith. 

The night before election messengers were 
surreptitiously despatched into a number of 
townships where both Smiths were practically 
unknown. These messengers went to the Repub- 
lican township chairmen, representing to them 
that Merrill had sent them. They had with them 
ballots exactly like those Merrill had previously 
furnished except that, instead of C. A. Smith, 
G. A. Smith stood as the candidate for surveyor. 
The messengers explained that G. A.” was 
right, and for that reason Merrill had sent out 
new ballots, and wanted the old ones taken up 
so that no mistake could be made. They said 
probably the Democrat tickets would read the 
same way, as they understood the Democrats had 
decided not to put their man on the ticket. The 
plan was adroitly carried out. In nine townships 
G. A. Smith got every vote. 

Before one o'clock we had heard from fourteen 
precincts. As the count now stood, Steve and 
Duncan were so far ahead of their opponents as 
to render their election a certainty. Steve had 
made a phenomenal run. But Kester was still 
in doubt. With Washington and Jefferson to 
hear from, he was fourteen votes ahead. On the 


292 


THE ELECTION 


head of the ticket these townships would probably 
offset each other, Washington usually going about 
as strongly Republican as Jefferson did Demo- 
cratic. But Kester had lost a little all over the 
county, and we expected him to run behind his 
ticket in these townships too, which, if he did, 
would render it very close indeed, if he won at all. 
In fact, Guegle’s friends were quite hopeful. 

About two o’clock a courier came in with Jef- 
ferson’s returns. They showed a small decrease 
in the usual Democratic majority, and gave 
Guegle sixty-one votes and Kester forty-three. 
This left Kester four votes behind Guegle, with 
Washington to hear from. On the head of the 
ticket the Republicans had carried Washington 
the previous year by fourteen votes. 

All was excitement now. Everybody was giv- 
ing his reason to his neighbor for the result as 
he predicted it in Washington on superintendent. 
All interest concentrated in that. Everything 
else was settled. 

On the senatorship, Marshall was far ahead of 
the ticket in the county. There had been no 
doubt of his election at any time. At about three 
o’clock the messenger from Washington appeared. 
The men in the room bustled excitedly as he 
threaded his way to the blackboard. Standing on 
the counter, Roger Gorman took the returns, un- 
folded the sheet, and looked it over deliberately. 

293 


THE 


GANG 


He wanted to tantalize us. From the expression 
of his face as he read, we could not get a glimmer 
of an idea as to what he saw. 

Finally, and after considerable gibing from the 
crowd, he began to read slowly. He started with 
the head of the ticket and read through the 
list of State and district candidates, we listening, 
painfully anxious. At last he reached the county 
ticket. 

“ County treasurer,” said Gorman, Duncan, 
fifty-seven; Meeks, forty-six.” 

That’s eleven margin on treasurer,” I said 
to myself. If Kester can get that, he wins.” 
Kester, it will be remembered, was, up to this time, 
only four votes behind Guegle. 

“ County clerk,” continued Gorman, Russell, 
Republican, sixty-one; Taylor, Democrat, forty- 
two. Superintendent of public instruction,” he 
went on with cruel slowness, Kester, Repub- 
lican, fifty-six; Guegle, Democrat, forty-seven.” 

The computation was made in an instant. 
Forty-seven from fifty-six left nine majority for 
Kester. Taking from the nine the four that were 
against him, left Kester five ahead in the county. 

“ Glory, glory, hallelujah,” Merrill began to 
sing, to the tune of “ John Brown,” and the crowd 
joined in. 

Glory, glory hallelujah, 

Glory, glory hallelujah, 

Kester’s marching on. 

294 


THE ELECTION 


And we tramped out the room still singing, 
and marched home to the time of the tune. 

Except as to surveyor, the people were well 
satisfied with the verdict they had themselves 
rendered. There was very bitter feeling upon that 
point against Black, for few, if any, doubted 
that he had instigated the scheme. Black con- 
tinued to publish his paper, but never reestab- 
lished his influence. 

Skinner was a wreck. For weeks his office 
had been in the hands of a deputy. Knowledge 
of gross irregularities had been obtained, partly 
by investigation and partly by Skinner’s admis- 
sions. Trouble had worn away his health, and 
his shrinking, tottering form, haggard face, and 
hopeless eyes were surely receipt sufficient for the 
payment he had received, in advance, perhaps, of 
a part of the “ wages of sin.” 

Plumpy arranged to go into Freeman’s drug 
store as a clerk after his term of office expired. 
He had formerly been a registered pharmacist, 
and had owned a drug store in Scudderville ; but 
had sold it on being elected to county office. The 
proceeds of the sale had long since dwindled 
away. Now, like many superannuated politicians, 
he found himself without money and largely with- 
out influence. He must begin life anew. He 
did it ; and, I am glad to say, he succeeded. He 
kept scrupulously out of politics, attended strictly 

295 


THE 


GANG 


to business, and saved a good share of his earn- 
ings. A few years later, with the help of friends, 
he purchased Freeman’s stock of drugs and con- 
ducted the business for himself. 

McGuire and his associates in the murderous 
assault were sent to the penitentiary. 


296 


CHAPTER XXXI 


GENE AND RUTH 

T he election, “ when Bradgate cleaned up 
Skinner and his crowd,” was a circum- 
stance of a number of weeks before. 

The snow had not yet come. A glow- 
ering December sky, overspreading a barren earth 
unredeemed by greenness anywhere, made the 
day a somber one. The penetrating northwest 
wind whistled down the street carrying a swirl 
of gray dust. Gene s tin sign hanging over the 
entrance at the foot of the stairway swung and 
rattled furiously. The little hard-coal heater in 
our sleeping-room was the most entertaining com- 
pany I could find. 

I had been sitting by it reading all the afternoon 
except during the time that I was out on an 
errand. It was so cheerless without and so com- 
fortable by the good fire with my easy chair and 
“ Martin Chuzzelwit ” that I hurried back to 
them. Soon after I returned, Gene came up the 
stairs and went into the office room, and through 
the partly open door I could see him as he sat 
down at his little flat-topped working desk. He 
had been busy there most of the day, gathering 

297 


THE 


GANG 


Up the odds and ends of his work after the term 
of court, which had adjourned on the previous 
day. It had been a busy term for him. In spite 
of himself, he was being repaid, in a business 
and financial way, for the services he had rendered 
the community. 

I had just resumed my reading when other 
footsteps came up the stairs. These footfalls 
were light, but there was more than one person 
coming. At the head of the stairway they turned 
toward Gene’s office door — then, a gentle rap. 

Gene called, ‘‘ Come in ! ” and I heard the door 
open. The voice that responded to Gene’s defer- 
ential Good afternoon” was Miss Ruth Wal- 
ton’s. Tressie was with her. They were always 
together now. 

Gene, rising, pointed to a chair in front of him 
on the other side of the desk, and, with his smile 
of welcome, asked Miss Walton to be seated. 
She sat down and was silent for a moment, while 
Gene secretly struggled to assume his profes- 
sional air. They were both plainly within my 
view. Tressie found a chair. 

‘‘ Mr. Bradgate,” Miss Walton began, “ I have 
some business matters I wish to leave with you.” 

‘‘ Are you going away ? ” he asked, his voice 
and manner a little anxious. 

She bent her head, slightly confused at his 
earnestness, as she answered : 

298 


GENE AND RUTH 


No; I am not going away — that is, not now 
— but I prefer to have you look after this.” 

Very well,” he responded, what can I do 
for you? ” 

‘‘ You know,” she went on presently, as well, 
or perhaps better than any one else, of the dif- 
ficulty in which my mother’s husband is involved. 
You may know the extent of his wrongful acts; 
but, Mr. Bradgate, he told me as nearly as he is 
able, I think, the amount of the county’s money 
he used. Others have shared this with him, but 
I don’t suppose they will want to help repay 
it. So I have decided to make good the losses 
so far as I can. And I have come to leave these 
with you.” 

Taking some papers from an envelope which 
she carried in her hands, and giving them to 
Gene, she explained : 

“ These are certificates of deposit, some mort- 
gages, and other securities. I think they can 
be realized on, most or all of them. I wish to 
indorse and assign them to you to convert into 
money and apply on the payment of Mr. Skin- 
ner’s shortage. I think there is sufficient here to 
meet the obligation. It is all I have, and he and 
my mother have really nothing. If there should 
not be enough, I do not see how I can pay the 
rest until — until I have earned it. 

I will leave the whole matter with you. I 

299 


THE 


GANG 


want to say, we are all very grateful to you for 
not having taken steps to connect him with either 
of the attempts on your life. Mr. Bradgate, I 
am going to tell you all I know. He has con- 
fessed to me that he knew about both of the as- 
saults, and I know he is responsible for both of 
them. Of course I know it is not yet too late to 
prosecute him, and if you feel it your duty to 
do so, I shall not complain. But of course — 
of course — I cannot help hoping my mother ” — 
her voice broke — “ will not have to go through 
that.” 

‘‘ Miss Walton,” Gene said huskily, '' be as- 
sured that I will never encourage the prosecution 
of Mr. Skinner for any of these things.” 

“ Thank you for your magnanimity,” she re- 
plied, while her eyes, moistened with tears, ex- 
pressed her sincerity ; “ I think he will soon be 
in the hands of a Higher Court. His strength 
is failing rapidly. He cannot last long. You 
have done what is right and what is merciful 
throughout.” 

“ I deserve no thanks,” he protested ; “ I have 
at no time had any intention or desire to 
prosecute him. As I said when you were here be- 
fore, you need have no fear of any proceedings 
on my part, and I think my advice not to prosecute 
will be respected by others. You offered your life 
in your effort to keep him from becoming a par- 
300 


GENE AND RUTH 


ticipant in a murder, and it would be a very little 
thing for me to do to refrain from urging a crim- 
inal proceeding that could do no good. I am sure 
too, the public will take into account, with your 
reparation of all financial loss to the county, this 
fact — that for his sake, and your mother’s and 
brother’s, you once offered your life.” 

“How is that, Mr. Bradgate?” she asked, 
perplexed. 

“ I say,” Gene answered, “ I think the people 
as well as myself will have little or no desire to 
prosecute, and they will take into account your 
offer of sacrifice both of treasure and life, for 
your family’s sake.” 

“ I don’t understand you, Mr. Bradgate. Of 
course I have given what property I have for 
their protection, but — oh! ” Her face crim- 

soned. She had suddenly comprehended his 
meaning, and at the same time became conscious 
that her failure to understand before might be 
construed as a confession, and it embarrassed 
her. Up to that moment she had been confident 
that Bradgate had regarded her act in saving his 
life merely as an act of humanity, without any 
personal reference either to him or to any one 
else. She now saw that he considered it due to 
her anxious desire to prevent her mother’s hus- 
band from committing a crime. But more than 
this, she saw that he had read from her blushing 

SOI 


THE 


GANG 


face the real motive in her heart. He was now 
gazing steadfastly at her, the nobility of his 
great heart shining from his finely chiseled face. 

“ Aunty, what makes your face so red ? ” in- 
nocently asked Tressie, increasing her confusion. 

“ Tressie, we must be going.” And rising, 
she turned toward the door with a parting word, 
‘‘ You will attend to this, Mr. Bradgate, won't 
you, as soon as possible?” 

“ Yes, I will attend to it.” 

He was still looking straight at her. 

“ Of course,” she added, ‘‘ you will — deouct 
your — compensation ? ” 

Tressie had gone downstairs. In spite of her 
perturbed state of mind. Miss Walton could not 
hurry at all. Then I suddenly wished I was 
somewhere else. I was about to attempt to steal 
away when I heard Gene say softly, “ Miss Wal- 
ton ” 

Then Tressie calling, “Aunty, hurry up!** 

And Gene again as softly, “ Miss Walton ” 

and she didn’t “ hurry up.” 

Gene stretched his hand toward her across the 
corner of the desk. She looked down a moment 
at the glove she had drawn when she had shown 
him the papers, picking nervously at it. 

The graceful poise of her head as she bent over 
the glove, her long lashes working rapidly, her 
sweet outlined face suffused with pink by the 
S02 



“ ‘ Ruth— Ruth ’ ” 


Page 303 



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GENE AND RUTH 


tumult of her heart — her lithesome figure trem- 
bling — made a sight full of delightful charm. 

** Miss Walton,” once more said Gene, still 
holding his hand before her. 

‘‘ Ruth— Ruth ” 

She looked quickly into his face, her big, 
frank, blue eyes meeting his squarely, and telling 
the whole story without a word, then reached out 
her slender, gloveless hand till it met — and was 
clasped in his. He arose and was eagerly moving 
toward her when I hurriedly attacked ‘‘ Martin 
Chuzzlewit.” 

‘‘ Aunty, why don’t you come ? ” 

“ I must go — Eugene,” she said softly. 

When she was gone. Gene turned so that his 
look fell upon me. He seemed startled at first, 
then he smiled. 

‘‘ Were you here, Phil? ” 

“ Yes, old man, I couldn’t get away.” 

I thought you were out,” he said quietly ; 
“but it’s all right. I don’t know but that I’m 
glad you were here.” 


303 


CHAPTER XXXII 

*«GO TELL AUNT RHODY” 

I T is Christmas night, still, cold, and white. 
The clock on my mantel says it is after 
twelve. 

I am sitting — alone — in my room. It is 
not our room, or what was once our room. Gene 
abandoned that first. After a few months I left 
it too, as he and Ruth both insisted I should. 

A few minutes’ drive from Scudderville, on a 
wooded plot, sloping toward the river, stands a 
beautiful and spacious home. It is built upon 
the site of old Judge Worthington’s homestead. 
Judge Worthington was the first settler in Scud- 
der County, and here he erected his cabin amid 
the walnuts, the oaks, and the box-elders that 
bordered the stream. The good and thoughtful 
old man preserved the large walnuts and the 
great, gnarly oaks that grew there. Also, he 
scattered the blue-grass seed over the ground; 
and now from early spring until late autumn it is 
thickly carpeted. 

The present house is of red brick, and rises 
majestically into and above the surrounding tree- 
tops. But there is nothing forbidding about it. 

804 


I have a view of miles and miles of broad, 
peaceful valley along the Badger” 

Page 305 













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«G0 TELL AUNT RHODY** 


In the hot, dusty summer days its cool verandas 
beckon to me kindly. On winter nights, bright 
and cheery lights shine from its hospitable win- 
dows. 

This is the home of Ruth and Gene. It is the 
home of little Tressie. It is the home of Ruth’s 
long-since widowed mother, and of her brother, 
Charley Skinner. It is my home, if any bachelor 
ever had a home. It was for the use of all of us 
that Gene made it so commodious. 

Four years have passed since Gene and Ruth 
joined hands across his office desk. The first 
year of their married life they lived in a little cot- 
tage in the town. Then, as he and Ruth, Mrs. 
Skinner, Charley, and I liked this place, he 
bought it and built a home for us all. 

Nothing would do but I must share it with 
them, and most delightful quarters upstairs were 
fixed for me. A door opens out of my room 
upon the balcony, from which I have a view of 
miles and miles of broad, peaceful valley along 
the Badger. An open grate fire keeps me warm 
in the cool of the spring and the autumn, but when 
dead earnest winter settles down, Adolph and 
Selma put up the hard-coal heater for me. 

A part of the summer we spend at the Bliz- 
zard.” That sounds odd for a summer name, but 
it is what we all agreed it should be called. This 
is our ‘‘ Lodge.” It is by the river near the place 

305 


u 


THE 


GANG 


where we camped on the night of the terrible 
snowstorm. About three years ago Gene and I 
bought ten sections, or over six thousand acres, 
of the Big Pasture, including the spot on which 
the Blizzard was afterward built. 

Gene has become one of the best-known law- 
yers of the State. I manage the Big Pasture 
farms ; I am proud of them too. Instead of miles 
of uncultivated prairie, there is now field after 
field, well tilled and well fenced. My tenants, my 
hired men, my buying and selling of cattle, my 
house, barn, corn-crib, and granary building, 
fence-making, and tree planting keep me busy. 
I love my work as well as Gene loves his. I 
go out early on Pete and do not return until 
evening. 

How strange it is, that of the whole household, 
I should have failed to mention its chief, its 
“ lord of the manor,” little Phil, commonly 
known as Philip the Second. He is about five 
months old now. He jabbers away something 
that sounds like “ Fop-fop-fop.” I have not the 
least doubt, and neither has Gene, Ruth, or 
Charley, that he is saying “ Philip,” but his 
grandmother, who seems to know more about 
babies than the rest of us, smiles and says : 

“ He’s a wonder of a child, there’s no denying 
that; but I hardly think he has commenced to 
talk yet.” 

306 


‘‘GO TELL AUNT RHODY’’ 


An, Mrs. Russell, Mattie, and Steve spent the 
day with us. We had such a good time talking 
over the old days. It was nearly sundown when 
they left, all save Mattie, who will stay awhile 
with Tressie. The little girls, wearied with the 
excitement of the day, went to bed and to sleep 
as soon as the supper was over. On going to 
my room after the evening meal,' I found that 
Adolph and Selma had made a fire in both the 
grate and the heater for me. Tears of gratitude 
started in my eyes when I saw what they had 
done, for it made me think again of what good, 
kind hearts they all have. 

I had just seated myself before the grate when 
Gene came in. In a little while Ruth was at my 
door with Philip the Second. He had awakened 
for refreshments, the which having been duly 
served, he had now come to pay his last respects 
for the night to papa and to Philip the First. As 
he came in, in his mother’s arms, he smiled 
generously upon us, showing his little pink, tooth- 
less gums. His eyes were wide open — planning, 
no doubt, to keep awake for the rest of the night. 
I took him. He will leave any of them for me. 
He played with me and ‘‘ goo-gooed ” for a while, 
the dear little rascal, and then I felt his precious 
little form settling more and more snugly against 
me, and a soft, velvety cheek pressed mine closer 
and closer. His mother, seeing that sleep was 

so? 


THE 


GANG 


coming on, took him from me. She folded him 
to her, looking down upon him with that mother 
look which I fear no painter can ever reproduce, 
and began to croon a lullaby. To help induce 
slumber, I turned my lamp down. The red light 
from the grate suffused the room with a misty, 
shadowy glow. 


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Go tell Aunt Rho-dy, Go tell Aunt Rho - dy, 



Go tell Aunt Rhody Her old gray goose is dead. 


It was the song my mother used to sing. The 
tune is simple and the words far from classical, 
I know; but together they have more power over 
me than all the other songs or music I have ever 
heard. Perhaps the Christmas spirit in the air 
to-night helped the hypnotic influence of the old 
song to creep upon me, as Ruth repeated it again 
and again, softly, and more softly. 

I closed my eyes and I was once more a tired 
child, in my mother’s arms. I moved my chair a 
little so that my face would be in the shadow. I 
did not want them to see the tears trickling down 
my cheeks. 

When he was asleep and Ruth arose to put him 

d08 


‘‘GO TELL AUNT RHODY’’ 


to bed, Gene whispered to her, “ Come back 
again, and let’s sit awhile with Phil.” 

‘‘Yes,” I said, “come back.” 

Soon she returned and resumed her seat before 
the grate. We left the lamp turned low. It 
suited our mood. The shadows easily tempted 
forth our secret thoughts and hopes. We talked 
some. We mused more. We communed as 
friends. We sat thus until the hour was late. 
After a long silence, Ruth turned toward Gene, 
and bending near him she whispered, “ Come.” 

They arose together, standing side by side. 
The firelight shone on her face upturned to him; 
and upon his, looking down at her. His arm 
gently stole about her waist, and with a “ Good 
night ” softly spoken, they walked out. 

And thus, I am sitting alone. 


309 


THE ARGUMENT 

FOR THOSE ONLY WHO WANT TO READ IT 

T he citizen desires to vote right. If he 
votes wrong, it is because he does not 
know. Place all the facts before him and 
he will act aright. He is sometimes led 
away by a false prophet. But when he is con- 
vinced that he is following a perverse leader, he 
will turn from the error of his way, and in the 
better cause, with the truer leader, exhibit more 
of zeal and faithfulness than he ever exercised 
as a disciple of a self-seeking Antichrist. All that 
he needs is to know. 

It is always safe to assume that existing forces 
which are deleterious to the public good will be 
at the caucuses, the conventions, the primaries, 
and the polls with programmes and slates.*' 
To meet them, it is sometimes necessary to be 
ready with a better “ programme *’ and a better 
slate.” A cause will not always win simply 
because it is right. I have known of undirected 
‘‘ mass meetings ” and ‘indignation meetings,” 
enthusiastically participated in by most of a com- 
munity, “ indorsing,’* “ adopting,” “ ratifying,” 
“ resolving,” and “ condemning ” most fearlessly 
310 


THE ARGUMENT 


and nobly in the cause of right; and at the same 
time of half a dozen men on the other and wrong 
side getting together secretly in an attic over 
a grocery store and conniving and organizing. 
When the results of both meetings were finally 
weighed at election time the six men came out 
ahead. 

The citizen thinks out his conclusions for him- 
self, but his aggressive actions, pursuant to his 
beliefs, must be made effective by means of or- 
ganization with other citizens under competent 
and honest direction. 

In conscious or unconscious organizing the few 
lead the many; and, I believe, the one leads the 
few. This one may be unknown to others, and 
even to himself. But at the center is a directive 
mind. I believe this holds good in party organiza- 
tion from township to nation. 

This condition, per se, is neither undesirable 
nor un-American. A dominating evil genius may 
stultify the will of the many. But a good genius, 
dominating, helps to crystallize the will of the 
many into facts. 

A good genius, in control by virtue of the con- 
sent by ballot or otherwise of a majority of the 
governed, is not out of place here. We are 
pledged to government by representation. We 
are not a democracy. We are a republic. This 
may not be a new or startling bit of information. 

311 


THE 


GANG 


We probably heard of it as long ago as 1787. 
But the history of political parties and the biog- 
raphies of some political leaders indicate that a 
part of us have suffered occasional lapses of 
memory. 

An evil genius in power embodies the great- 
est danger in “ machine ” politics. Too often he 
holds sway so complete and so long that the peo- 
ple come to regard him as a perpetuit}^ and even 
a necessity. Such a leader was Norman Skinner. 

Organization in politics is right because it is 
a necessity. Machines in politics are often bad, 
but if bad, it is not because they are machines. 
Bosses in politics are often bad; but if bad, it is 
not because they are bosses. There are good and 
bad machines and good and bad bosses. 

The citizen likes to feel that his leader is truly 
patriotic and unselfish. He will follow such a 
one with more enthusiasm and faithfulness than 
one of whose sincerity he has any doubt. There- 
fore the most successful leader in politics is 
he who is really looking for the public good, 
rather than the office-seeking wire-puller, how- 
ever ingenious ; and the leader who will not accept 
for himself political preferment has a positive 
advantage over the other, who will take for him- 
self office and glory. 

The citizen, fully informed and awake to his 
responsibilities, is a better safeguard to the pub- 

312 


THE ARGUMENT 


lie’s interest against corrupt officials than the 
courts. It may be, that as many good men will 
be found for office by placing the official on his 
honor and holding him responsible to the people, 
as by assuming at the outset that he needs police 
or detective surveillance. The people, if they feel 
the responsibility upon them, may be able to 
prevent more of official crime than the courts 
can cure. Suspicion may not always be a better 
policeman than trust. Officials are usually honest ; 
but when they are not, it is more to the point 
that honest men should succeed the dishonest 
ones, than that the public mind should be en- 
grossed and the public energy and conscience ex- 
hausted in punishing the dishonest ones. 

The citizen is frequently so fully occupied with 
his own private affairs that he neglects the con- 
cerns of the public. It is no doubt true that the 
best citizen, and the best politician for that matter, 
is the man who attends to his own business best. 
But, unfortunately, some who may not well attend 
to their own affairs readily accept all responsi- 
bility for the interests of the public, and often to 
the public’s loss. Therefore, the citizen should 
make his hand felt in community concerns and 
make those concerns go right, rather than spend 
his political energies in complaining about what 
the other fellows have done or have not done. 
A good leader is one who arouses and takes with 

313 


THE 


GANG 


him this element of society. Eugene Bradgate 
was both honest and wise. He was good enough 
to want good, businesslike government. He was 
wise enough to know that the majority of the 
people of Scudder County wanted the same thing. 
He set himself about his task by leading them 
to a realization of the condition of things, and 
then showing them the remedy to be to replace 
bad and incompetent men in office by good and 
competent ones. It is not a new or intricate polit- 
ical philosophy, but it is one that is not put into 
practice at all times and in all places. He enlisted 
the men who before had been occupied with 
private affairs, and had made a success of them. 
This kind of man is a host in himself when you 
can get him. Bradgate organized his forces. He 
had a machine. He was himself a boss. He 
went into caucuses and conventions with “ pro- 
grammes ” and slates.” But by refusing all 
political preferment for himself, he convinced 
every one that he was not seeking his own polit- 
ical advantage. The law of sacrifice is applicable 
to practical politics. 

Bradgate centered his followers’ energies upon 
efforts to replace corrupt and incompetent officials 
with better ones, rather than upon the punishment 
of those who had gone wrong. He made the 
polling-place the center of the fight rather than the 
courtroom. He let the people themselves make 
314 


THE ARGUMENT 


right that which they had made wrong. He ap- 
plied the remedy that would help present and 
future conditions rather than the remedy that 
would act chiefly punitively. 

It sometimes seems that the popular notion is 
that reprehensible politics and reprehensible polit- 
ical leadership exist only in the great cities. 
Every community, both in city and country, has 
within it specimens of nearly all classes of polit- 
ical workers, and, in a greater or less degree, 
of all kinds of politics. One who is acquainted 
with the sharp political practices in the country 
districts knows that the township or village ma- 
nipulator is often as shrewd and as culpable as 
his brother heeler ” in the city. 

The new communities of the West furnished 
attractive fields for the designing political in- 
triguer. Most of the people were busy in the bread- 
winning and home-making conflict, and many of 
them left the political management in their com- 
munities to those who wished to assume the re- 
sponsibilities. Then too, the people were stran- 
gers to each other, and were not always able to 
make wise selections. Political strifes in these 
districts would often take on strenuous and in- 
tense, and sometimes tragic phases. The earlier 
Westerner’s fearless and sometimes reckless tem- 
perament furnishes ample explanation for the 
stirring events that have often characterized 

315 


THE 


GANG 


Western elections. But out of these conditions 
have grown, throughout the middle or older 
West, as developed in Scudder County, what ap- 
pears to be the most healthful, vigorous, and dis- 
cerning public spirit of any section of this re- 
public, and the most trustworthy class of public 
officials this country affords. 

The West is made up of the East transplanted. 
The Westerner has differed from the Easterner 
because his environment has demanded the exer- 
cise of different qualities. It is because his en- 
vironment is different that he is different. He 
meets the necessities of his new conditions and in 
the main he meets them honestly. 

Several characters in The Gang came from 
across the Atlantic. The Western farm is deeply 
indebted to the foreign immigrant. The August 
Muellers have industriously, and with tenacious 
regularity, continued to feed mein pigs,’' and 
to attend upon their other homely duties, regard- 
less of time or weather, until the Germans of 
the prairie States count their gold in the millions. 

The Swans, who don’t borrow me tobacco,” 
who ** buy me own tobacco,” who don’t borrow 
anyt’ing,” are the owners of the best improved 
and most valuable farms of the West, encumbered 
by neither weeds nor mortgages. 

The John Marshalls have sprung up here and 
there ; and in many places we are indebted to the 
316 


THE ARGUMENT 


Irish- Americans for the most fearless and daunt- 
less of political leaders. 

With all their material prosperity, they have 
been true to the land of their adoption. As in 
the Plum Grove Literary Society, their voices 
mingled in the strains of ‘‘ America,” so, in the 
stern demands that have been made upon them 
both in war and in peace, have they joined forces 
and have freely given of blood and treasure to 
sustain the nation. 

Though sometimes *Wiewed with alarm” by the 
great cities, the immigrant has furnished much 
of the brawn and brain that have been exerted 
to place the farming sections of the West among 
the wealthiest and best-contented agricultural 
communities of the world. 

The Westerner’s sympathies are easily aroused. 
They sometimes influence his ballot. I know of 
a Western county where, out of six most im- 
portant and best-paid offices, two are filled by 
men of one leg each, and one by a one-armed 
man. 

Steven Russell was a much stronger candidate 
by reason of his arrest, trial, and acquittal than he 
otherwise would have been. 

Among the opposition, Guegle was much more 
formidable on account of his having but one leg. 
The writer may speak with a small degree of 
prejudice upon this point, since he was once 

317 


THE 


GANG 


relegated to private life in a Western county by 
a one-armed opponent. This opponent had many 
things to recommend him to the public good- 
will besides an empty coat-sleeve. He won 
honestly and fairly, and, the writer now believes, 
deservedly. Neither this opponent nor any one 
else of the county in which he dwells appears in 
these pages. 

The Methodist Episcopal Church is mentioned 
a number of times, and some of the leading char- 
acters of the narrative are members of that body. 
It is scarcely possible to discuss the moral, social, 
and political growth of our Northern prairie 
States without taking into account the Methodist 
Episcopal Church. This church, in the opinion of 
the writer, who is not a Methodist, has partici- 
pated more actively and effectively than any other 
single religious body in the building of the North- 
west. Its enthusiasm and aggressiveness have 
made it popular in the new and booming ” 
towns and cities, and have made it their strong- 
est moral force. It has dotted the prairie States 
with academies and colleges. It has, by means of 
its well-organized strength, nominated and 
elected many high State and federal officials. It 
has earned by valuable service its dominant posi- 
tion among the churches of the north Mississippi 
and Missouri valleys. 

Considerable attention is given in several chap- 

818 


THE ARGUMENT 


ters to the cyclone and the blizzard which not 
infrequently visit the Northwest, and to the in- 
tense cold of the winters. The vigorous and ag- 
gressive tone of the Western character has taken 
some of its qualities from the violent natural 
forces of the climatic rigor. Then, aside from the 
effects of these influences upon individual char- 
acter, they often constitute facts of sufficient 
moment to have an immediate and direct bearing 
upon the social and political life of the com- 
munity. Nature is not the least of the teachers 
we have to reckon with in life. 

Manifestations of a great destructive force, 
such as that of the cyclone, leaving in its track a 
score or more of tragedies like that of Bill Crow- 
ley, could not help shaping the conduct of some 
of the participants in the Skinner and Bradgate 
controversy, involving, as that controversy did, 
serious moral considerations. 

The principal characters are real personages. 
Many of the incidents related are practically 
exact reproductions of scenes from real life. All 
of these which are not details of single facts are 
either combinations and composites of collected 
facts, or are based upon some particular and 
similar circumstance. 

Not all of the persons presented nor events re- 
lated belong to any single town or community. 
They are all people and scenes that were a part of 

319 


THE 


GANG 


the country politics of the West of a number of 
years ago, and in some cases of recent date. 

Most of the counties of our Western States 
have experienced a regeneration similar to that 
of Scudder County since their pioneer days. In 
some, it may not have been accomplished so 
quickly, so easily, nor so completely as here. In 
others, it may be, there has been no appreciable 
change of heart. 


THE END 


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